It was a long weekend, but a nice one. Our teensy little book club read A Room With A View, and I stole a day from the round of work-reading to swallow it whole. I’d seen the Merchant-Ivory movie, of course, and to me Julian Sands will always be George Emerson. (Daniel Day-Lewis will always be Cecil Vyse, until he moves to America and gets all sweaty as an adopted Mohican.) And of course, there’s That Kiss. It was a good palate cleanser. There is a suggestion afloat to read Maurice next, for compare/contrast.
Let’s see, so far today I’ve run six miles, finished the Christmas shopping and wrapped presents, cleaned the kitchen, done my personal best on the blue 5.9 (otherwise known as the Blue Devil) at the climbing wall, given an interview and a pronunciation guide to the people doing a very awesome audio enactment of the Valentine books, and searched for a copy of Forster’s Maurice. (No luck. Yet.) No wonder I’m tired. That’s the thing about Mondays–I usually work through the weekends, so Monday is my catch-up day for errands and all sorts of things. It’s my Saturday, if you will, only without the parties. And it’s not over yet.
Anyway. The year is winding to a close. It seems like just a few weeks ago 2010 was just starting, and I was struggling to keep my head above water and close the door on one of the worst twelve months of my life. I’ve rebuilt a lot, and thankfully 2010′s beat the pants right off 2009.
One of the most profound things is learning (again) that the pain of missing someone does eventually fade a little with time. (Especially when that someone is well, not very nice.) Getting to the point where I can say, “I used to miss you very much…but now, not so much. And tomorrow, even less,” is very healing. Accepting that you can’t save someone unless they want to be saved is terribly difficult. It hurts each time. I should learn to pick my battles better.
Ah well. Next year.