"Records," she said. "I want to spend the day before Judgment listening to good music."
I was dog-tired, but I wanted the same thing. Jane and I had never had enough time to listen to all the music we wanted to hear. Somehow, we had never gotten around to it.
Jane wanted to go with me, but I thought, what with the jam New York was in, it would be easier if I went alone.
"Lock the door until I get back," I told her. "It may be the day before Judgment, but not everyone's an angel yet." She winked at me. She hadn't winked in years.
I scrambled through the crowd to a music store. It was deserted. I picked up a long-playing recorder and all the records I could carry. Then I came back. I had to walk to the fifteenth floor, because some guy was zooming up and down in one elevator, and the rest were out of order.
"Put on the Debussy," I told Jane when I got back, throwing myself in an armchair. It was a joy and a pleasure to be off my feet.
That's how we spent the rest of the day, and the evening. We played records. I had gotten some Bach, Debussy, Mozart, Hayden, and a few others I never heard of. I listened to more music in that day than I'd heard in five years previously.
We woke up late the next day, about one-thirty in the afternoon. I felt guilty. It didn't seem right to sleep away the day before Judgment.
"Seems as good as any other way," Jane said. Perhaps she was right. Anyhow, we were both ravenously hungry. Jane's feet were blistered, because she hadn't moved around so much since we were courting.