Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

At noon today, I had an appointment with my lawyer to sign a will, a living will/health care proxy, and a power of attorney. I say "my lawyer," but I hadn't met her before: all the stuff before this had been done by phone and email with her mostly-retired partner. I looked over what they'd typed up, to make sure it matched what Fred and I had worked on; went through the options on a power of attorney; and read over and signed the living will (I'm not 100% happy with it, but am not sure what changes I'd make, and I am happier with it than with nothing, for now. The main thing is, I think, going to be conversations with my partners about what I'd want, so they can make decisions for me if necessary).

She also asked after my mother's health, and asked that I send her regards. I live in a city of 8.2 million people, and the lawyer I had never met is asking after my mother, as well as whether I'd actually seen Fred.

Then she got two other people in, and in their presence had me confirm that I had read and understood the will. I initialled every page, and then signed. They signed as witnesses. I have two copies, and the original has now been stapled together and, I am told, is not to be unstapled.

The original of the will is at the offices of Sonnenfeld and Richman, here in Manhattan. One copy is here at my house; another is going to adrian_turtle, who is my backup executor.

I was feeling somewhat tired and stressed this evening, and I don't know whether it's travel, doing this particular grown-up thing, the long workday that it led to (same number of hours of work, but getting out a bit later than a 9:15 arrival normally means, because I took a slightly long lunch to do the legal stuff), or something else. After I turned the thermostat up Saturday evening, climbed under the duvet, and then asked to borrow a pair of pajamas, Adrian suggested I might be coming down with something.