Auld Lang Syne
You know what's been awesome? The last week or so. After a serious whirlwind of December craziness with my usual heaps and piles of work, things . . . got quieter. I've lounged on the couch, read book after book, snoozed on DK's chest, played elaborate games of hide and seek with the cat. It's been lovely to have a week or so of downtime, to be lazy and indulgent. I haven't checked my blackberry for days and when I do, there's nothing important to respond to, like my whole little chaotic world has gone into a much needed hibernation.
One of the biggest stress relievers in our home was that on December 20th, DK had his PhD art history orals, the last major hurdle of his hyper-competitive program before he can start his dissertation. And he passed, swimmingly passed, passed with élan. Panache, if you will. As I knew he would, for DK is a walking encyclopedia of artistic knowledge and has a verbal dexterity that frankly still takes me aback after all these many years, but it is nonetheless a huge relief to get to close that chapter. He's gotten up every morning since early September at 6am to start studying, to review article after article of crazily esoteric theory and –isms and to memorize provenance and look hard at objects and read biographical details and craft arguments for how it all relates to X and Y and Z. And he's still been his usual sweet self, doing the laundry, the endless chores, entertaining our little marauder of a cat. What can I say? I'm a proud wife – I've puffed up my chest and am crowing his accomplishment to the world. COCK A DOODLE DOO!
The night before the big test, however, was a little touch and go since for the first time, DK seemed stressed out and a little manic and perhaps a touch snappish. Even in the best of times, DK is the lightest of sleepers and never can get more than four or five hours a night, sometimes a little less, rarely a little more. The cat could cuddle too close, the temperature could be a hair too warm, the city noise from the bar five blocks away could reach his tender ears. (Oh god, I have to remember to write about how last week DK LEFT THE APARTMENT at 5am to go yell at a bunch of DRUNK FRAT BOYS who were singing loudly outside.) Anyway, Princess? Meet pea. While I happily snooze without a thought. The cat gets too close? I swat him away. The room too hot? I kick off the blankets. I can nap on a dime, and boy howdy, do I ever. So, the night before his exam, I sternly told myself that when Topo started his nightly 4 am kitty calisthenics around the bed, ripping up papers, batting that damn shaky mouse toy around, I, Nancy, would wake and deal with him. DK would sleep, as god as my witness, DK would sleep.
DK did not sleep. True to his usual troublesome nature, Topo was in rare form early early that morning (3:45 am early), perhaps sensing that we just wanted him to shut.up.jesus.christ.cat. Through my haze of sleep, I heard him batting at a vase of dried flowers I had irresponsibly placed on the windowsill. The kind of dried flowers that make a really huge puff ball mess and the exact, precise type that cats like Topo love to crush into a million little pieces. So, did I quietly wake and steal stealthily out of bed to get the vase without waking DK? Ah, no. No. Instead, I bellowed like a banshee, "TOPO NO TOPO" and leapt out of bed, throwing back the covers. I streaked over, scaring the shit out of both DK and Topo, the latter of whom jumped for the bed landing squarely on DK's stomach. As I lurched around, I told DK to stay in bed and wondered where to put the vase where the Troublesome One couldn't reach it. I ended up sticking it high onto a bookshelf in the bedroom niche. DK whispered, "Are you sure there's enough depth on that shelf?" Yes, yes, shhhh, go back to sleep, it's all fine, shhhh. I tossed the cat out of the bedroom, got back into bed and we both sighed and turned back on our tummies to sleep.
Until five minutes later when the vase and flowers came crashing down, splintering glass and little bits of dried flower bits everywhere. Topo was thrilled and streaked back into the bedroom to investigate. I jumped out of bed again, tried to grab the squirmy cat before he did something like merrily ingest glass or a flower head or ten, and clean up the mess with my other hand. But alas. Between the mewling and the shrieking and glass scratching, DK was wide awake. He huffed off to the couch while I swept up shards. I peeked out a little while later and saw him curled up in the sofa blanket, light on, books out – and my little grinchy heart broke. Oh remorse! Me miserable!
And after some fruitless pleading for him to come back to bed – snarl! growl! he responded -- I went back to sleep, because for all my gnashing of teeth and pulling of hair and rending of garments, DK was up and awake and I was tired. But the whole rest of the day, I fretted that those few lost precious hours would mean the difference between him passing and him . . . not passing. A slide would flash up and his tired brain wouldn't be able to place it. Or, or he would jumble up two schools (constructivism v. futurism? Hell, I'm well rested and can barely tell you the difference). Or he would try to nap before his exam and would end up missing his exam because he was so very very tired. Anyway, as you can imagine, I was very very happy to get a bright chirpy voice after the exam and to meet for some celebratory champagne in Grand Central.
And our Christmas was grand, filled with many cookies and glasses of wine and delectable presents, and I hope all of you too had lovely lovely holidays. We went to Portland to spend six days with DK's brother and family and delight in their sweet little four-month lump of cuteness and whirling four-year old dervish of adorable. We even lucked out and got a very rare (so we're told) white Christmas, and celebrated by going out to the backyard to catch big fluffy flakes on our tongues. Ho, ho, ho.
It's been a very full 2007 and here, on its last wane, I feel very lucky indeed. May your 2008 be merry and bright.
