Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Champagne wishes and slightly drunken dreams Plunged into a sort of bleak, self-mocking depression yesterday after receiving a call from La Hag. Turns out that the worst, indeed, has happened...the check that I wrote Roommate back on Feb. 6 bounced. I'm mailing her a "replacement" one, because I do have the money (and honestly don't know quite why the check bounced, but that's another story) but that didn't stop me from trying to spend the evening in drunken, maudlin self-hatred. Well, except for the drunken part - I had three glasses of champagne, but that didn't do all that much except make me more prone to sitting on the floor with a despairing expression on my face, and hell, I do that on most days. I couldn't even drunk-dial my friends to piss and moan about how stupid I was and how tired I was of things going wrong, because I was too conscious of how stupid I would sound, which is the litmus test for Not Really Drunk At All And In Fact Is Probably Not Even Really Tipsy. So I spent the evening not thinking about it, which took some effort on my part and a lot of effort on The Bemo's part as well. I made him play Trivial Pursuit with me (he won), made him rub my still-aching shoulder (ahh, bliss) and made him listen as I yammered inanely while I made soup (really good Pasta & Fagioli from Trader Joe's). Thankfully, the one effect the champagne did have was to put me to sleep at a reasonable time, so I didn't spend the night staring up at the ceiling wondering why I am a stupid fuckup. Which, you know, is a bonus. 7:59 a.m. - 2004-03-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||