Journal of a Sabbatical

February 3, 2001

the seven year itch

Today's Reading:
The Island of Penguins by Cherry Kearton

2001 Book List
Plum Island Bird List


A phone call from someone selling subscriptions to the Lawrence Eagle Tribune woke me from a detailed dream about getting a prescription for Zoloft from a very young psychiatrist who had an office in Newburyport and an office in Budapest. He wasn't Hungarian though. I went back to sleep and the phone woke me up again. This time it was somebody wanting me to change my long distance service. Going back to sleep for another 15 minutes seemed pointless. I felt a little under slept all day.

But no matter.

Seven years ago today I met Nancy. I can't believe it's been seven years. Where did the time go?

We met at Trident Booksellers Cafe on Newbury Street, so returned there this afternoon to celebrate our anniversary. When Nancy told her mother it was our seventh anniversary she asked something about the seven year itch. Nancy told me about this conversation and I laughed.

Anyway, we went to Trident. It's changed a little.

The nonsmoking section used to be in the back. The nice bright section by the windows overlooking Newbury Street used to be the smoking section. Today we got seated in the front section at a nice bright table next to nice bright young people with brightly colored hair. That I am old enough to be their grandma and am thinking about dying my hair green seemed to secretly amuse them.

They don't have the wonderful "Trident Fries" any more. I used to like the beets particularly. They were jewel-like.

It used to be a gay hangout. Today most of the people appeared to be in heterosexual couples. But it still seemed friendly and hip- maybe too hip for a couple of middle-aged women but we're oblivious.

Nancy had the avocado-havarti melt and I had the famous vegetarian cashew chili. I had Moroccan mint tea. Nancy had genmai cha. This does not at all match what we had the day we met. But we don't have to reenact the first date exactly.

OK, this time the date didn't last eight hours either.

We still laugh about how smitten I was that day my really lame line "Uh, I, uh, definitely want to see you again." And Nancy's reply: "Maybe I'll call you in two weeks." She called in two days. After that nobody else had a chance. We laughed about that again today.

Since, as Nancy put it, we're not dating anymore we're in a relationship, I knew that after supper Nancy would want to go to Tower Records to browse the jazz CDs, that I would find Tower Records unbearably hot within three minutes and want to go to Avenue Victor Hugo to browse for used books... and that is exactly what we did. Neither of us bought anything.

Back at my house I plied her with Sweethearts with silly sayings on them and she gave me a Schoolhouse Rock tribute album with Interplanet Janet performed by Man or Astro-Man?. It's a great cover! The Lemonheads version of My Hero, Zero is wonderful too. Silliness.

And so to bed. So there I am in bed with the woman of my dreams who continues to be in my dreams after 7 years. We start to cuddle. I start to itch. Itch! I'm talking major league itching. My back, my legs, my arms. Itch. I scratched frantically. Nancy: "What's wrong?" Me: "I itch!" Nancy: "It must be the seven year itch!" I've never laughed so hard in my life.


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Copyright © 2001, Janet I. Egan