Upstate and Downscale
No windows yet, but I do have yards and yards of plastic window covering. Every opening is swathed in thick plastic. No pesky house key needed–just several swipes of my car key, and I was inside. The most exciting thing is that I was actually able to switch on a crudely installed porcelain ceiling fixture in the living room. It gave off practically no light, but it does give proof to the existence of electrical power. Looking forward to my first non-ConEdison electrical bill.
I was also invited to my first neighborhood party. A man I actually know from the city and his significant other had their annual after New Year’s party. To a native Californian, it was a scene out of Currier & Ives, but with a slant of course. Situated deep in the country, down a bumpy dirt road, there was ice skating on a pond, great food, and a large bonfire. I met so many nice people. The problem is that I don’t remember anyone’s name. Totally sober, remembering is a problem; a few drinks in me and forget it. I don’t know if its age, the recreational drugs I took in my youth, or the prescribed drugs I take now. The only names I can recall are the people I knew previously from the city. Oh well, what’s in a name? How about a new friendship or even a potential relationship? Next time I should pretend I’m covering the party for a local newspaper, and after I snap their photograph I’ll ask and record their names.
I was thinking this weekend about how different the Hamptons is from this area. Although I never had a house on the Island, I always had a lot of work and friends there. In all those years, I never once attended a skating party on a pond or stood by a bonfire that wasn’t in a fire pit. Nor did I ever park in a lot void of Hummers and Mercedes. Upstate and downscaled. I know I am going to like it there.