I looked in the bathroom mirror when I got up on Saturday morning in Smalltown, U.S.A., and saw dark circles around both of my eyes. That was when I knew I was starting to feel the strain of two weeks’ worth of caregiving. Seventeen hours and two flights later, I was lugging my suitcases up the stairs of my Upper West Side apartment house, and an hour after that I was out cold.
The good news is that my mother’s orthopedist and physical therapist have given her excellent reviews. She’s healing nicely, has recovered her balance, and graduated last week from her walker to a cane. While she’s not quite out of the woods yet, her recovery has been much faster than anyone expected. I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am.
Needless to say, I haven’t been sleeping very well lately, and I returned to New York to find the usual mountain of snail mail awaiting me. Fortunately I have only one deadline to hit this week, but I’m several days behind schedule on The Letter and my Louis Armstrong biography, I need to plan a playgoing trip to California, and starting on Tuesday I’ll be seeing six shows in six nights. For all these reasons and plenty more, I don’t plan to do any more blogging this week except for the usual almanac entries and theater-related postings. OGIC and CAAF will pick up the slack. If I break my word, give me hell.
See you next Monday.
P.S. No, I haven’t been answering my mail–but I will. Eventually.
Terry Teachout on the arts in New York City
