Sundays are kickass. Kickass plain and simple. But sometimes, as I lay in my bed, hungover from the responsibilities of the week and the wine from the weekend, I can get a little doomsday on my favorite day to be solitaire. After much thought (and the obvious realization that I’m not going to die alone) I have determined that there are four ways to solve the occasional Sunday sadness:
Move back in with my Mom each Sunday. Do you remember when you were sick and your mom would carry all your pillows and blankets down to the couch to have a movie marathon? And she’d bring you medicine and your favorite foods and tend to your every need? There’s nothing better than the feeling of being taken care of by someone who loves you unconditionally.
Get a dog. Whenever I’m feeling lonely all I want is to cuddle with a dog. Maybe a Boston Terrier or something smallish so he could jump into bed with me and nap away the afternoon. I imagine he’d like to wrestle in the park and he’d enjoy when I read aloud to him. And like any good companion he would indulge me in my desire need to eat bacon for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Find a boyfriend. The kind that would want to spend all day hanging out, getting coffee, and watching bad movies. He’d be content to avoid the world for the day unless we were feeling oddly ambitious and ventured across town for a boozy brunch and a walk along the river.
Acquire a butler. Should I not be able to do any of the above, I’d at least like to get a butler to run out and get me coffee when I’m struggling too badly to put on an acceptable outfit for leaving the couch. That’s love too, right?
Sleep-deprived female seeks sturdy umbrella for a dreary walk to work. Please be capable of withstanding the wind and not too big because I hate when people run into you with umbrellas wide enough for the Von Trapp family. Also seeking a large cup of coffee post-walk. Should be strong enough to get me through the morning onslaught of meetings and rich enough to defrost me after the torrent of weather I experienced this morning. Preference will be given to bottomless cups or coffee or those that can be administered via I.V.
Should you fit either description, please meet me at my house tomorrow at 8:45 am. Looking forward to meeting you.
Me:Just saw on twitter that Rachel from glee was in the audience at how to succeed in business tonight! Ahh so sad we missed her!! #racheliloveyou
Hillary:Omg amazing!! Seriously, I feel like I'm in the social network right now. That party I told you about is a Harvard party. I just met a guy named Laurence and everyone is wearing button downs tucked into khakis with leaders #I'm in heaven
Me:Hahaha that sounds right up your alley. Pick up a few hotties so we can start wearing crimson daily
On Thursday night I went to my first book club ever. I’m honestly surprised I hadn’t joined one already but ya know, I’m too busy reading books on cancer biology to read something anyone else would be interested in. Anyway, I’ll skip the part where we talked about a book that none of us enjoyed and I barely read because it was more poorly written than some of our wrestling cheers in high school (wrestle, wrestle, twist him like a pretzel) and I’ll just tell you what I learned:
Trader Joe’s has some pretty kickass taquitos
New York weather sucks
Nine bottles of wine is the amount necessary to cover a 300 page book
Everybody has a depressing engagement/marriage story
Stay single forever (see above bullet)
I’m wearing the wrong size bra (don’t ask, it may send me into hysterics)
Everyone is obsessed with Charlie Sheen right now
Finding a book that everyone enjoys is virtually impossible so when it’s my turn I’m going to pick something nerdy that undoubtedly no one will read except Christine. I’m fine with that
“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." -E. B. White”—Beautiful. Thanks for sharing Taylor. Shall we discuss this quote at our next E.B. White fan club?
As sexy as Bruno Mars is, if someone said that shit to me about catching grenades, throwing his hands on blades, and jumping in front of trains… I’d be like, sweetheart, we need to seriously reconsider this relationship. All of those things are completely unnecessary. I go out of my way to avoid situations where any of those things are required, let alone, preferred. I’d much rather have you hang out with me, among other things, in a capacity where all your limbs and organs are intact, perhaps after seeing a psychologist. We could go to couple’s counseling if you are more comfortable with that, but what you just said… that shit is too intense. You need to take it down a notch.
Dear neighbor who appeared sometime two months ago,
What is your story? Where did you come from? When I first moved in you were concealed behind your blackout windows and my set of curtains that I accidently ripped down six months ago. I’ve never actually seen you but your presence is palpable considering we’re separated by less than 5 feet. I know part of our situation is my fault, being that I’m too lazy to hang up said curtains, but you should know that my walls are made of concrete and it’s honestly really hard to hang anything up. But I’m sure you know that; I assume your walls are concrete too.
Why did the building owner convert your room into a residence? Or were you always there but just hidden behind those unfortunate blackout windows? If that’s the case, I’m sorry you spent so much time hidden from the sliver of sunshine that occasionally makes its way into the crevice between our buildings.
Also, why did you just put in a new air conditioner? I know we’ve been having a small heat wave but the reality is that it’s still March and we have a few months of coldness ahead of us and those air conditioners can cause a bit of a draft. I don’t want you to get sick. You might start missing that job that you seem to wake up for at 5am. You’re never noisy but sometimes I can see the light peeking out from your shades when I’m trying to relish my last few hours of sleep.
And finally, does it ever worry you that we don’t have a ready fire escape and we live on the third floor? I’ve often thought that I would just use our adjacent walls to spiderman to safety should the need arise. Do you think about these escape mechanisms too? Do you think about these things at all?
Maybe you wonder why I listen to all my music on repeat and why I’m incapable of putting away clean laundry. Maybe someday we’ll pass each other and in a brief moment of familiarity we’ll just know that we were meant to be great friends. We’ll share our favorite places in the neighborhood and wonder how we lived next door to each other so long without knowing anything real about each other. Then again, maybe some relationships are best left uncharted.
(Apologies for the rampant alliteration that runs throughout this blog. That combined with rhyming are the only two literary tools I like. Well, and hyperboles; I mean duh. No seriously, you should see me in brainstorming sessions: every single thing I suggest either rhymes or has alliteration. I’m like the Dr Seuss of the advertising world. But more on that later.)
8:30 am: Call into work because the popcorn I had for dinner last night isn’t cutting it and I’m overcome with nausea.
9:30 am: Lie in bed stressed because I’m missing work (somewhere along the way I’ve been brainwashed into thinking I should go to work everyday). The stress makes my stomach hurt more as I enter into the vicious cycle of a stress-related illness.
9:35 am: Try to go back to sleep but mostly just toss and turn in bed and think about Christine leaving. Almost cry but then channel my inner Fergie and remember that big girls don’t cry over other people’s happiness.
12:30 pm: Realize I dreamed about dreaming about a great dream. Not sure what this means but it probably has to do with the fact that I picked Inception to win every single category at the Oscars. That and I’m in love with Joseph Gordon Levitt.
1:30 pm: Go to Starbucks because my internet isn’t working. Resist the urge to lay down on the bench because I’m still feeling ill. I know this is 2nd ave but I still think I’d be judged rather harshly.
3:30 pm: Smile at some passerby on the street (see previous post). He smiles back and I’m pretty sure I saw him slow down a bit, as if he was going to say hi. Don’t worry though, I’ll undoubtedly write back to his missed connections post tomorrow.
6:15 pm: Head out to half price tapas at Yuca bar. Good thing no one reads this blog otherwise they’d know about this gem of a place in the east village.
6:30 pm: While waiting for my friends, a homeless-ish man with limited teeth approaches me and says “Charlie Sheen wants to party with you tonight”. Obviously I’m overwhelmed with flattery and my night/life is now complete. I mean Charlie Sheen is so hot right now.
7:45 pm: I sit down for tapas with my friends and enjoy a few delicious dishes and some sangria to commemorate my upcoming half birthday.
9:30 pm: Go to Cask for some Jazz after dark. Immediately develop a talent crush on the entire trio and begin to envision a life for us including teaching our children how to play the cello. I take my talent crushes very seriously so I’ll spare you the details.
11:00 pm: Realize I have two client meetings tomorrow and I should probably appear presentable. Excuse myself to go home and watch Sex and the City on dvr. It turns out to be the one where she registers for shoes as a fake wedding present. Decide that will inevitably be me and turn in for the night. I’m really looking forward to the shoes.
I went to see Rabbit Hole last night. It was beautiful and eloquent in all the ways a movie about grief should be, and I was quite impacted by the weight of it all. What is it that makes grief so heavy? So real and so visceral and yet so hard to grab hold of?
Without getting all sad and emotional I will just tell you to go out and hug all the people you care about and remind them that you love them. And maybe smile at a stranger or two on the street. They need love too.