Hump Day

This last weekend was so glorious in both company and temperature. My friend Vitali was in town, on his way home to the Hague from singing in an opera at the San Jose Opera. I got to meet the woman who is saving my offbeat bride ass, the beautiful and entertaining Ariel Meadow Stallings. Friday was one of those perfect days, where you wake up to dark and storming rain, and then the afternoon clears to glorious spring-like weather. It lasted throughout the weekend and then yesterday it went KERPLUNK, diving deep down into 10 BELOW ZERO. This hurts as it is, but it really hurts when the heat in your bedroom breaks down during the night. I woke up yesterday morning in a frigid ball, up against Graham's back for warmth.

Last night in preparation of going to bed, Graham and I added four extra layers of blankets and I wore sweats, pajama bottoms, two pairs of socks, two long sleeve shirts, and a hooded sweatshirt. When we got into bes, the SHEER WEIGHT of the blankets made it hard to breathe. Graham said, "I feel like we are camping." In Brooklyn, I think this is as close as it gets to camping.

I still didn't sleep that well for the second night in a row. This morning, I woke up feeling a bit grumpy and slightly under the weather. Usually I love snow, but the sight of it this morning made me want to jab Frosty the Snowman's eyes out. I am ready for some FRICKN' SPRING, people!

Not only that, our cat Kingsley has had a teary eye off an on for awhile. Yesterday he began to resemble the Native American man looking out on the heaps of litter in that 1970's TV commercial, so we realized it's time to take him to the doctors. The thought of that cat having an experience akin to an alien abduction makes me want to well up myself. So does the impending vet bill.

Sometimes when you are in a really bad mood, you sometimes help it along by doing dumb, mistaken things like forgetting your book when you head out to the subway, or maybe you add SKIM MILK by total accident to the GOOD COFFEE you decide to splurge on to help you out, thus RUINING IT. Regular skim milk users will not understand this, but half and half users will understand the SILENT SCREAM that errupts at the sight of your coffee turning a muddy clouded color. I know in these moments that the world is not necessarily against me, but I am apparently against myself, and that totally blows, because wherever I go, there I am.

I was going to go see Ariel read this evening--and if you are in Brooklyn, you should go, she is a very good reader--but I feel too much like a danger to myself to be trusted out in the frigid air, in a part of Brooklyn that takes me OVER AN HOUR to get to. The way my day is going, can you imagine the mathematical possabilities of a two hour round trip endeavor within Brooklyn on a frigid night, returning to an icebox apartment? It's SUICIDE, I tell you! SUICIDE!

March is the wednesday of seasons--it's just a hump to get over until the glorious spring. I'll gather up my blankets and look at the daffodils on my kitchen table and feel the warmth from that. For now, it will have to do.