I got coffee, so I spoke to someone then, in a real way, since my friend owns the coffee shop. After that, though, I silently rode the train to work, arrived, went into my office, sat down at my desk, "worked" (which is in quotes because I was slow so mostly I just surfed the web and wrote), went out and bought a salad, where I said "Harvest Cobb, no beets" and "Thank you." I went back to work, and sat in my silent office some more. I spoke to a friend on the phone for about 15 minutes, then went to a yoga class, where I said, "I don't know, I haven't ever been here before" in response to the question, "Is it always this crowded?" and "Namaste" at the end of the class. Then I rode the train home in silence.
So. From 8:30 in the morning until 8:30 in the evening, with the exception of one fifteen minute conversation, I said exactly 16 words. I had the strangest sensation of the day not even happening.
Kathy and I are a high-contact couple. I mean that not in a physical way, like wrestling or something, but in the way that we talk to each other all day long. Something interesting happens, I will call her and tell her. Hell, something boring happens, and I'll call her and tell her. ("Ugh, sweetie, I'm so boooooooooooored. And my back hurts. And I think I saw a roach peering out of the vent in the bathroom. Yep, love you too, talk to you later. Bye!") She is the same way. ("Hey, can I just ask you something? Does it sound like I have water running if my phone is on speaker? REALLY? A client said that too. Weird. Love you too. Bye!") They are not always on the phone; sometimes they are over email. I like this. It is like, by bearing witness to my day, whether it's roaches in the bathroom, or a run in my stockings, or a scheduling conflict, it really happened.
With Kathy in Europe for work, what with the busy schedule and the time changes, I am deprived of this little validation. I have a whole backlog of things to tell her, and inevitably, some of them are going to slip out of the iron jaws of my memory before she returns and I am able to tell her all my things. Like, does she even, at this moment, know that I had the Harvest Cobb salad on Wednesday? I don't think she does! Thank God I wrote that one down.