4/9/99

Rather nice day, for the most part. Tony and I whispered like third graders all through Wind Symphony this morning. He was telling me about his marriage counseling experience. Tony's not yet married--he and Becky are going to counseling to learn how to deal with their problems in advance. He had a blast, apparently; highly recommended pre-marital counseling. When I told John's mother about it on the phone this evening, she dryly pointed out that if one actually has fun in marriage counseling, one probably doesn't need it.

After rehearsal I exulted in bad-influence-land and convinced Daryl to go out and play pool with me. We talked more than we played, eventually tearing ourselves from the table and heading back to school. Where we sat in our office and talked again. Altogether, I think we spent a good 3 hours doing nothing but laughing at our stupid shit. And checking out the Kournikova-Schnyder match. Mmmmm....

We did touch on the subject of my marriage thingy. The fact (fact??) that I'm getting married. More specifically, the fact that I can't believe it yet and am somewhat reserved about the whole thing. I think if I'd been drinking we'd have really gotten out of hand with the confession/reassurance bit; good thing for Daryl that it was a beer-free lunch.

It started when Daryl picked up the chalk cube, read it, and handed it to me, whispering, "Serendipity...." On the side of the cube I read, "manufactured in Macon, Georgia." All righty.

I responded with a surprised chuckle, and said, "You know, the signs have been everywhere...sometimes they're the only things reminding me that I'm making the right decision...."

He took this in stride. Paused for just the right length of time, and said something to the effect of, "Beth [his wife] was a little weird when we moved here. Like, what's going to happen next?"

Well said, D-man. He went on to say that things have a way of happening. Again, well said. Three cryptic sentences and I felt better. Of course, I'm sure he was thinking, "what the hell, what, she thinks I know what the hell life is about? Whatever, man."

On the topic of my fluctuating commitment-insanity, it's ebbed for the time being. I got over myself. There are plenty of things for me to do in Georgia--teaching, playing, teaching.... Day job notwithstanding, if I can find a pianist and start giving solo recitals, I can enter competitions and record CD's. John will be gone a lot. Don't know what significance that has, really, but it will give me a lot of time to practice and all that. And write, hell, why don't I write more? This could turn out to be a good arrangement.

Anyway, I came home this afternoon to find a message from Eric that my check for the recital had bounced. Godammit, I knew there was a reason I had to go to the bank this week. Normally, I go on Wednesdays, and I deposit all the checks that my students give me on Mondays and Tuesdays. Since I didn't have lessons this week, I skipped the bank. Not remembering that I had to transfer the money from my savings account to cover that damned check. I really screwed him over, too--the ATM ate his card and he was just on his way out of town, before I got his message. I feel pretty awful. Especially awful because I know he won't be mad.

I brooded for a bit over this, then transferred the funds by phone, not that it will do him any good on his trip to Bowling Green, since he doesn't even have a card. Then I settled on the couch, talked to John for a while, fell asleep, woke up, watched TV, talked to John's mother. Relaxing day. So much work to do tomorrow, and I probably won't do it. But who cares? I'm moving far far away and nobody will ever find me unless I want to be found.