Let's review. Monday was probably the best day. By Tuesday, the constant tension from hovering on the Edge of the Unknown starts to make me nauseous and generally gross. However, the news was full of stories about another STORM coming, so there was hope that Wednsday would be a snow day. I had yet another commuter FAIL on Tuesday night, when realized too late that the electronic station sign was broken and stuck on same station, so I miss my stop and realize this as the train pulls away from the station after mine, so actually miss my stop by two stations. It takes an hour and 20 min to walk home in the dark, on the fucking un-shoveled snowy, icy sidewalks. I fall twice and pee in the church bushes once on this trip. Dammit. It goes without saying that I must make a stop at the wine shop on the way home. I cannot believe how fast the bottle is gone, but it's ok, bc there will be snow tomorrow.
Wake up on Wednesday morning and run to the window only to be crestfallen to see the pathetic cat piss amount of snow that will not stop any trains. Decide that cannot deal and take a personal day. I go online to investigate other job possibilities and work myself up into an anxiety attack and spend the day in a weird kind of stupor that's very unlike me. Suspect that might have depression. Shit. Around 6pm, I get a text from L2, wondering where the hell have I been and that he hopes I'm sunning my ass someplace with palm trees and little umbrellas in sugary drinks. I wish. Realize that with my car missing from the lot and my habit of using just the bedroom and not turning on lights, it looks like I'm taking a fab vay-kay. I text L2 back that I'm home and we make plans to go have drinks.
Over oysters and martinis at that bar (where else), we catch up and I get the next installment of miss Russia's shenanigans. That bitch is unhinged. L2 tells me about lame New Years spent at miss Russia's mom's house, where the dumb-dumb made a big mistake of letting L2 see her in the morning without her usual 2.5 hour beauty prep. L2 sed that he was like, OMG, I cannot believe that I put up with so much shit for THIS girl. I daintily shove an oyster with a dollop of horse radish in my mouth, suck on an olive and shake my head with sympathy listening to this mess. Then L2 drops an indecent proposal bomb on me, and asks me if I would accompany him on his next trip to a tropical location. He has come to the conclusion that I am more fun (duh). I agree right away, bc always have fun with L2. Once home, as I peel off my clothes and unsteadily get to bed, I wonder if the Russian mob will bust my knee caps upon my return.
As you can guess, Thursday morning was challenging, but felt better by the time I walked to the station in the deep chill. I tell my train friend L that I'm feeling fragile and need to sit alone today, and the train sets off to the city. Once at work, I finally get to see bigP and we have a little talk and he gives me some good advice. I follow it, and get a tiny moment of feeling better about things. It is V's last day, and after work we all head to Legends where we settle upstairs in the fake regency couches. All types of WRONG FOODS arrive, and i tell V that B sed she is a closet junkfood eater and V confirms its true. I keep V steadily supplied with wine, and soon our big group is buzzed and the conversation heads into TMI territory, very loud with lots of hysterical laughter. Highlights: everyone shares tales of the BIG men in our past, (we are practically having seizures, as B and I sing 5...5...5...dollar foot-long about her Atalanta lovah, and I bring up Ira the Giant Jew of 2nd avenue) then, naturally and organically, the convo proceeds to the topic of man-scaping. V, who has been married for 16 years, cannot believe how things have changed and that it's no longer just the gay men who are sporting hard wood floors instead of shag carpets! Good times! By this time, V2 brings his hotness to the bar, and is the only male in our big group. We badger him with indecent questions and that mofo is loving every minute. Eventually, I have to shlep back to the office, where workaholic MM is still buzzing around, bc she is giving me a ride home, being co-resident of Fancytown NJ. I must remember to thank MM profusely for putting up with my alcohol fumes and rambling (I'm sure).
Get home at midnight and oddly cannot sleep, and when I finally do fall asleep, I have completely insane dreams. In the dream, I get to live on the top floor of a fantastic brownstone in NYC, but there is a catch: I can only access the apartment by climbing the outside wall spider-man style and entering through a terrace in the back. This is especially cumbersome, as I have two Siamese cats who for some reason always cling to my shoulders using claws. In addition, there is a garden in the back with a large dog house in which I keep Larry David as a pet. Oddly enough, Larry has a ladder which he must climb to the terrace where I keep his food bowl, but he is not allowed to eat when I'm home. He doesn't obey this very well, and I keep having to run out to the terrace and push him back down. Later in the dream, I am on the train with my mother and we have a large wooden crate with us, which contains a mattress outfitted with a bed-in-the-bag. We are traveling to a port, where we will ship this thing as a gift for someone's wedding. We are having a horrible fight, bc I am screaming that we should just ship the bed-in-the-bag and it's not necessary to ship the entire mattress already dressed. Night falls on the train and I'm trying to find a place to sleep, but there is nowhere comfortable, so mom tells me that I should just get inside the crate and sleep on the nice mattress. We pry the lid open and I get in and get comfortable, only to realize that this is a HORRID TRICK on moms part, bc she produces nails and a hammer and starts nailing me in and I realize I will be part of the shipment!!!! I wake up tangled in the comforter and all the pillows on the floor and the cats looking at me disapprovingly from the safe distance on top of the dresser. Jesus!
This dream is about the impossibility of moving back to NYC and my struggle with mom's not so secret wish to see me shipped off to and boxed in some marriage. I think that the Siamese cats represent my addiction to sleek expensive fashion, which claws at my bank account. And Larry David probably represents a possible solution of enslaving a rich man as means of moving to NYC, but knowing he would then annoy me by trying to live with me. HA!
This morning, I could not believe there was another day to get through in this never ending week, but eventually, this too, did pass.
I am determined to have a cleansing (of apartment and self) weekend. A low sodium, alcohol free, time at the gym weekend. A nice, boring weekend. Bc Monday is a big day, but cannot say, as do not want to jinx.
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