Getting by

Thought I would have enough time to water my garden, eat, and maybe get a little writing done between work and a 7 pm show.  Got the watering done, but the bus was a little late, and so I was trying to eat the Taco Time veggie burrito between the ringing of the bell and the start of the show, out in the lobby.  The house manager offered to refrigerate it for me, which I mention because it was nice, but in the end unnecessary.  (Great Soul of Russia, stories tonight by Chekov, Patricia Highsmith, and Elmore Leonard, curated/directed by Jean Sherrard.)  After, the sky still light, the air warmer than in the theatre.  Two people washing their hair via the drinking fountain and a Starbucks cup, next to the bus stop, in the waning light.  Finally on the bus and heading home, a sliver of the moon falling westward above the mountains, still silhouetted against the remnants of a blazing red sunset.  At home, the attic is boiling, even with only half a day of sun.

In no particular order: Peggotty heads back to Yarmouth, but not before letting David know that if he ever needs financial help, he only needs to ask.  After conversing with Traddles, David decides to teach himself shorthand, in order to get ahead.  Traddles and David attend a farewell party for the Micawbers, who it turns out are leaving for Canterbury.  Mr. Micawber has been hired by none other than Uriah Heep.  Mrs. Micawber seems to have some regret as to her union with Mr. Micawber, the instability of their life.  She mentions reading and coming to understand the vows of marriage the night before they wed, but now seems to wonder if she perhaps was incorrect in her understanding.  David finally sees Dora again and explains his situation.  She cries.  And cries.  (She's a bit of a nit.)  Miss Mills sorts it out.

At work, David is called into speak to Mr. Spenlow (Dora's father), Miss Murdstone is there, she has discovered (through snooping) the relationship of Dora and David, and now has all the correspondence and has revealed to Spenlow.  Mr. Spenlow tells David it is all the foolishness of youth and forbids the relationship and any further contact between the two (with the added threat of sending Dora abroad if it should occur.)  David leaves in a state of despair, oh, and apparently Mr. Murdstone is married again.

He meets with Miss Mills, pleads his case, leaves in a greater state of despair, but comments that she seemed to revel in the situation.  She is a fan of all the drama and romance, meeting him in secret, when in fact he could have walked in the front door.

The following day he arrives at work to find everyone milling about, he rushes in and is told the news: Spenlow is dead.  David faints.  Apparently, he stayed late in town, and died alone on the road home, the horses arriving with the carriage at the gate, and he found later some ways back, lying on the road.  David finds himself jealous of Death, that anything should push himself into the recesses of Dora's mind.  That he cannot be there to comfort her himself.  He sends a message to her through Aunt Betsey.

Jorkins and Tiffey ask David to help them go through Spenlow's papers at the Commons.  They are looking for a will, having not found one elsewhere.  David is convinced there must be one, from the earlier conversations where Spenlow said that Dora was taken care of, but the others believe one was never written.

It turns out there was no will, he lived beyond his means, and with the sale of his property, 1,000 pounds remained.  Dora is sent to live with two maiden aunts in Putney, along with Jip (her dog) and Miss Mills.  David finds a way to regularly meet with Miss Mills, and read her diary of what has been happening.

"Miss Mills and her journal were my sole consolation at this period. To see her, who had seen Dora but a little while before - to trace the initial letter of Dora's name through her sympathetic pages - to be made more and more miserable by her - were my only comforts. I felt as if I had been living in a palace of cards, which had tumbled down, leaving only Miss Mills and me among the ruins; as if some grim enchanter had drawn a magic circle round the innocent goddess of my heart, which nothing indeed but those same strong pinions, capable of carrying so many people over so much, would enable me to enter." - Dickens, David Copperfield.