Wednesday, 26 September 2001 | Editha

I've been thinking about Editha lately, as a consequence of current events and common opinion. I originally read it for a literature course and had actually forgotten about it, until recently. I find it eerie that something written in 1905 can be so distinctly relevant in 2001. What happened two weeks ago would've been impossible to imagine then, but our reactions are predictable as ever.

Leeches is missing and of course I'm worried. Incidentally, I'm also uncomfortably sick; the change in temperature is death to the sinuses. (Perhaps waiting by the screen door for a sign of Leeches hasn't helped.) So tonight, and possibly tomorrow, the cat who's not missing and I are going to spend some time together; me, feeling lifeless and pitiful; Jane, lifeless and lazy.

As I'm writing, I can hear Bob Marley repeating the phrase everything's gonna be alright; it's being hammered through the vents and the floorboards, courtesy of my downstairs neighbors. Optimistic words that prevent me from sleeping.