It was 11 degrees and windy
this morning when I went out for the paper just before 7:00. Dark, too,
because sunrise doesn't come these days till nearly 7:30. The people at
the end of the block leave their Christmas lights on all night —
strings of tiny whites that wrap the porch railing and the bushes
and climb through the bare branches of the tree in their front yard. I
like looking at them, at the glow that greets me when I get to the end
of the driveway and scoop up my paper.
I spent most of today with my beak under my wing, so to speak. Our
parakeet, Paco (whom we've had for exactly a year and who is named for
the boy in the
Dragnet
Christmas episode), did this for several days at the beginning of
the month. He'd done a parakeet version of binge drinking. He likes to
sit on
the roof of his cage (we keep his wings clipped), and he took to
hopping over to a small tabletop fountain on the counter and jabbing at
the stream of water trickling down the rock wall. I think he ingested
so much water it made him sick, and for two or three days he'd rouse
himself when I uncovered him in the morning but within half an hour be
perched in the back of the cage with his beak stuck under his wing, a
stance he doesn't assume even late at night.
Animals are sometimes smarter than humans. If they feel sick, they
rest. They don't endeavor to put the whole dining room back into its
non-Christmas condition because if they don't do it today it won't get
done until next Thanksgiving (like last year). They listen to their
bodies.
So I listened to mine today. I had a good breakfast (poached egg,
English muffin, orange juice), read a little, and then went back to bed
before I started picking at the leftover party food. (Chances are good
I'd eat more leftover red velvet cake than leftover vegetable wreath
with low-fat salsa dip.) About 1:00, when the light is most glorious in
the kitchen these days, I worked on notes for my Feast of Stephen
letter, and then took another nap.
I know what I have is a form Post-Holiday Letdown Syndrome, a set of
physical and mental responses recognized by mental health
professionals. I'm not depressed, nor am I suffering from
disappointment because my expectations for my party were not met. But I
am letting go of the tension and even the anxiety that preparing for it
entailed.
