Tessa says that in order to bounce back to normal, one's body must reach the depth of what it can tolerate. In terms of fatigue, I may be reaching that fathoms-deep trench right now. I am speaking to you from the middle of the Atlantic Ocean - or at least a nice long boat ride - on an island off the coast of Maine called Monhegan. It is the first day of our "mini-honeymoon" and I have been mustering all the mitochondria I can gather in order not to get truly sick.
Most people get drunk or high on drugs and alcohol, but I believe it is also possible to get drunk on love, intensity, and the feelings of those around you - and the hangover can be a bitch. The wedding weekend was such an amalgamation of last-minute heroics and pure joy that I need a breather and three extra-strength Excedrin twice daily. I thought I was going to be ready to function by today, but it had become worse. By the time we got to Freeport, Maine and went shopping at the 24-hour L.L. Bean Factory Outlet (more white people per square foot than anywhere else in the Northern Hemisphere) I was truly showing signs of a big ol' flu. As of yet, I have remained victorious.
I thought I would take the honeymoon off from blogging, but I still feel a need to connect to the mainland. There is one phone at this entire hotel, tucked away under the stairs, a tiny copper line that allows me to eke a few words to you. Tomorrow I plan to write down the emotional highlights of the last week just so I can have the faint whiff of the era when I read these much later. Until then, the midnight tide rises up the cold, wet island and I can finally sleep.
Posted by at August 12, 2003 8:31 PM