Labor Day

Spend day in continued apprehension about start of school. While don't feel that this is in any way useful, and that actually doing work would make self feel better, continue to think nostalgically about aimless summer days. Become tearful when think about Billy and his paper bag puppet. Am pulled out of reverie by telephone call from the Contessa who asks if I have any plans this weekend. Say no, not really. She next asks in enthusiastic tones whether or not I'd like to help her move. Am infected by her enthusiasm and before thinking respond in similar tone, saying I would love to help you move and I'm sure Dave can help too.!Regain senses and see that trap has been set and sprung. Can either resign self to fate or gnaw off leg. Lie to self that move will be fine. Like to carry heavy objects. And the Contessa probably a much better packer than last time we moved her--when most of her posessions (except for books tidily packed into boxes the size of coffins) got thrown into jumbo-sized black garbage bags at the last second. Have almost convinced self that will be fine when realize with a nasty jolt that have promised Dave too and that have to inform Dave of plan have made for us. Wait all afternoon to tell him, alternating between feeling anxious about school and about having to deliver news. Finally take bull by horns and call up the salon. He isn't there. When will he be back? In a few minutes. Will you have him call me? Yes. Libby pokes her head in. Announces that she will be on Shelter Island for the weekend...she is going to swim and relax! Wish her well. Dave calls back. There is a long pause after tell him. Ask if he is still on the line. He says yes he is, he'd be glad to help. The Contessa is a good friend to me. Feel that am neither a good friend or a good human, but that Dave exceedingly nice.