It began like this...I awoke at 4:30 am with little recollection of going to sleep and the worst case of the thirsties ever. Crap. I got totally wasted last night. Again. After chugging an entire Nalgene of water I attempted to go back to sleep until my alarm would go off and I would have to go to work. It didn't happen. I got up and went to the bathroom and did some serious puking. This is totally unlike me, as I never, ever throw up due to anything drink related. I knew this was a bad sign. I was also feeling a residual bummed out feeling over the further realization that I had last night of how unhappy I really am at my current career position (sorry, that gets it's own blog later). I knew I was not going to be able to go to work, which is such a dick move considering I just got back from vacation. Shit. I woke Matty up to get some advice on my predicament, which he resolved by lulling me back to sleepy feeling and telling me to call work and get back to sleep. I did. Then there was the predicament of having to move both of our cars for street cleaning. We already had to bail my car out of the tow yard once so, lesson learned, we had to move them. To add to the chore my car had a flat that needed to be changed. Channeling Superman, Matty gets up (it's 7am by the way) moves his truck, changes my tire and moves my car, then comes back to bed, all without letting me get out of bed to help. Could he be anymore of my hero at this point? Yep, because he came back and talked me out of my morning nervous breakdown and helped me get back to sleep, with no sign of grumpiness what so ever. The man is amazing.
Fast forward a few hours and Matty and I want to go visit his Gramma, and I run out to the truck to grab something I drunkenly left in there last night. Oh my God, a fucking boot is on the tire. A boot! I thought this only happened in sitcoms based in NYC and the Simpsons. Hello wave three of my nervous collapse. I run into the apartment yelling and crying, like I had just seen a three headed dead prostitute, expecting Matty to be just as bullshit. But of course, the yin to my yang, he simply got on the Internet, called the parking clerk, and figured out what we had to do to fix the situation. I am rocking back and forth speaking in tongues. He is comforting me. This is the way our relationship often works.
One T ride, one iced grande soy mocha, an amusing analysis of the beauty that is Government Square (yeah concrete) and $600 in parking tickets paid...and the crisis is over. Matty even took me to a yummy sandwich place downtown before we had to come home so he could go to work. Have I mentioned how much I love this man. Left to my own devices, I probably would still be rocking back and forth on the couch.
What was left to do but salvage what had so far been a pretty shittastic day. I went for a relaxing bike ride and then came home and started to pack for the move. I came across some pretty interesting things in my "memory box", namely letters and journals that I had written. In the midst of a pretty rough time it was humbling to read some of this stuff and see how much I have been able to make it through and how much I have grown in my adult life. It also helped me to realize that some of the things that are shitty about my life in the present are nothing compared to what I have already had to conquer, especially because I no longer have to face these things alone.
I got a lot packed and threw away a good amount of stuff, which I find cleansing and calming. Then I went to Starbucks for coffee with Steve, which turned into an ex-barista party. It was so, so nice to see everyone and spend some time just hanging out together at our old store. I am definitely going to try and make that a more regular occurrence.
The day was turning out completely opposite from how it started, and the best was yet to come. I went over to Emily's and we compared our day's horror stories, talked about boys, ate yummy organic salad from her dad's garden and ordered sushi rolls. It was exactly what I needed to bring me back to happy.
Now I'm home in bed, listening to Rufus Wainwright, and about to snuggle up to Running With Scissors and my book light under the covers.
Bad day? What bad day?
Fast forward a few hours and Matty and I want to go visit his Gramma, and I run out to the truck to grab something I drunkenly left in there last night. Oh my God, a fucking boot is on the tire. A boot! I thought this only happened in sitcoms based in NYC and the Simpsons. Hello wave three of my nervous collapse. I run into the apartment yelling and crying, like I had just seen a three headed dead prostitute, expecting Matty to be just as bullshit. But of course, the yin to my yang, he simply got on the Internet, called the parking clerk, and figured out what we had to do to fix the situation. I am rocking back and forth speaking in tongues. He is comforting me. This is the way our relationship often works.
One T ride, one iced grande soy mocha, an amusing analysis of the beauty that is Government Square (yeah concrete) and $600 in parking tickets paid...and the crisis is over. Matty even took me to a yummy sandwich place downtown before we had to come home so he could go to work. Have I mentioned how much I love this man. Left to my own devices, I probably would still be rocking back and forth on the couch.
What was left to do but salvage what had so far been a pretty shittastic day. I went for a relaxing bike ride and then came home and started to pack for the move. I came across some pretty interesting things in my "memory box", namely letters and journals that I had written. In the midst of a pretty rough time it was humbling to read some of this stuff and see how much I have been able to make it through and how much I have grown in my adult life. It also helped me to realize that some of the things that are shitty about my life in the present are nothing compared to what I have already had to conquer, especially because I no longer have to face these things alone.
I got a lot packed and threw away a good amount of stuff, which I find cleansing and calming. Then I went to Starbucks for coffee with Steve, which turned into an ex-barista party. It was so, so nice to see everyone and spend some time just hanging out together at our old store. I am definitely going to try and make that a more regular occurrence.
The day was turning out completely opposite from how it started, and the best was yet to come. I went over to Emily's and we compared our day's horror stories, talked about boys, ate yummy organic salad from her dad's garden and ordered sushi rolls. It was exactly what I needed to bring me back to happy.
Now I'm home in bed, listening to Rufus Wainwright, and about to snuggle up to Running With Scissors and my book light under the covers.
Bad day? What bad day?
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