Working for the weekend

When I bid the Composer goodbye Wednesday a week and a half ago, she hugged me. And mentioned that she would be really busy for the next few days. I was rather busy as well (you may recall a young woman known here as the Poet), so I didn’t call right away. I waited until Sunday. Near the beginning of that call, she mentioned that she was surprised I was calling. Hmmmm, that made my eyebrow rise up. Had I misinterpreted that hug? Had I waited too long to call? She said she’d be spending a few days recovering from a couple of very intense weeks and that she would call me once she’d come up for air again. Fair enough: I don’t have strong feelings about this situation, but I was curious to see where it would go. At this stage, though, I tend to doubt she’ll be calling.

Meanwhile, I called the Cooperator the day after, Wednesday, left a message, and she called back within minutes. Brief conversation ensued before she went to a meeting, gist of which we would talk again.

My weekend is developing like topsy: a friend from high school called last night saying he was coming to town this weekend. We haven’t seen each other in eight years. I’ll meet him at the train station; we’ll have dinner somewhere. Also, an old girlfriend is coming to town: we’re having brunch tomorrow and going to see the Audubon exhibit at the New-York Hysterical Society. Sunday I’m having dinner with my neighbors. Somewhere in there, I have to find out if my poem wins Prairie Home Companion’s spring poetry contest.