For weeks we’ve been urged to abandon our qualms about omicron and hasten to see the retrospective of Yayoi Kusama at the Tel Aviv Museum.   Linda even bought tickets for us.  So we took our granddaughter and went.  

Now part of my response was definitely related to the difficulties involved in getting a partially vaccinated child to the museum.  We picked her up after school – I walked over to the unreachable-by- automobile gate and waited, in the rain, for a good ten minutes and brought her to the testing place.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the entrance and no one around the Habima seemed to know where it was.  Suddenly, a door opened, and a beautiful woman stood at the entrance.  Her understanding of the forms to be filled online, however, was as clear as my understanding and that of the little girl, so the process extended a much longer period.  

So we went on to the museum and arrived just in time for our time-specific tickets.  

And hungry.  

A quick trip to the cafeteria didn’t revive me – too much was going on.  Friends I hadn’t seen for years with much to tell me, food I was too distracted to choose properly, too many people.  And I forgot my pills.  

So by the time we got to Kusama I had little patience for infinity.  Even Van Gogh was too much for me.  But my art-hating granddaughter found great pleasure in innumerable selfies together with the mirrors and self-reflective exhibits and I found great pleasure in photographing her.  

After, we compensated her with McDonald’s at Dizengoff Center, and I found great pleasure in visiting the new toilets there. 

Seriously.  The solution to trans toilets, for example, was easily available with ‘unisex’ toilets between the ‘men’s’ and ‘ladies.’  The problems of finding out-of-the-way bathrooms were solved by numerous artistic signs on the floors “this way to the new toilets.”