Wednesday, October 16, 2013

The edge is wearing off

The relentless Now of an animal's life can make living with a distressed creature almost unbearable. There is no comforting them. There is no tomorrow, no explanation, only the tyranny of the present.

But on Day 3 in Harlem, the cat has begun to find his bearings. He no longer huddles behind the bathroom sink, where I put him the first day while the movers were still busy and to which he returned at every new affront. He no longer slinks desperately to a corner when he hears footsteps overhead. He does sleep on the bed, which he has not done in years.

Last night he ate supper with us on the new terrace. Live gospel music pumped out from a nearby building as we licked our fingers, sticky from the ribs I had grilled on our first fire. The unusual flames had brought people to windows. I am used to living in utter privacy in my garden space - this is very different: Lights, camera, action. I should buy movie-pajamas, for my morning coffee, and those '40's sunglasses. Maybe I should take to drinking those photogenic Bloody Mary's.

We are inching along, in terms of settling in. Curtains would be nice. So would a nice, comfy chair, a kitchen island and another four kilims. But for now we hit pause while I find and prepare some Ginger Ale Hams (see November, in the book) for a big Abrams book party in Willamsburg on Thursday (I bought smart black high heels, and everything). Vince and I will transport the pig/s (if I can find them) from Harlem to Brooklyn by cab and carve them for 300 guests. Wish us luck.

And then we will unpack some more boxes.
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