a la recherche du temps perdu (part trois)

I didn't do squat this past weekend. Not diddly-squat.

Oh, I got the chores done, alright. But beyond that I was a comfy-chair potato all Saturday and Sunday afternoons. My big living room window faces southwest and both days were sunny. I have a couple of huge plants in front of the window which gives the rest of the room a leafy, "jungly" feel, as the sun passes through the leaves and paints dappled images on the carpet and opposite wall, over the piano.

It was delicious, knowing I didn't have a care in the world, or a commitment unfulfilled, scrunching myself down into the cushions, tv remote in one hand, the other artfully draped over the side of the armrest, dozing in and out of deep, restful sleep... from 2 until past 4:00 p.m.

That is my idea of a perfect afternoon. No drama. No place to be. Nothing hanging over my head (that I'm aware of).

I did finish one little project. An dear old friend of mine sent me a package which arrived Friday. It contained a box of slides, taken at a Halloween party she threw either in 1984 or 1985. She doesn't have a scanner and I was more than happy to scan them all in as JPEGs and to e-mail them back to her, which I did and finished late Saturday night (I sent them right after SNL signed off).

I was in a couple of the shots. I was dressed in one of my old Navy-issue Nomex (fire retardant) flight suits and a "Jungle Jim hat" and had come as a commando of some sort. I also had a toy machine gun. They voted me "Most Macho" for the evening. I do remember that. Imagine trying to hail a taxi in New York these days dressed like that, Halloween or not. That's me up there. Kinda cute, huh?

I don't remember ever being that young. Or that good looking. It's shocking, sometimes, to see our younger selves. In this particular case, that was a lifetime ago. Literally. It's such a cliche to say "If I'd only known then...", but I have to admit that if I had known then what I know now, it's highly unlikely I'd be here today.

You see, I was headed straight to hell and didn't know it. Which is just as well. Because, as Jack Nicholson once noted, I couldn't "handle the truth."

Or, maybe, I was just too friggin' lazy to do anything about it. Until it was too late.