Well. It's a Sunday here, finally. After 8 months of no school nights, tonight is, at last, a school night. I was never good at Sundays. The morning part, sure. Anyone can do brunch. But after that, it gets a little squirrelly. I get a little squirrelly. I think I'm doing pretty well at the moment. I'm not precisely sure what I'm wearing tomorrow, but there's a pair of black wool pants hanging in the bathroom, and with a good pair of black wool pants, the rest of it can't be that hard. And I'm in bed, sort-of, and it's only 8:48. I am a little nervous about the sleeping too, that's another thing I'm not always so good at. Maybe a little reading in bed will help, right?
I had a couple of reality checks today, like the phone call I got from one of the guys in Paulie's band. He's in town playing a show with another one of his bands and left me a message saying that he was going to put me on the guest list, but guess what? Sunday night, midnight show? Not for me.
It's like I'm pregnant now, only without the babies.
Just kidding. Still, I imagine that I am weirded out right now in a way that is not completely unlike the way you must be weirded out, Allison. Do you have that feeling like you have all this stuff to do and now you don't have any time to do it in? Or like you are in the middle of one of those dreams where you are locked out of your house without your pants on, and maybe, like, forgot to pay all your library fines and now they are coming to take you to JAIL for those fines? Today Bobby asked me if I was nervous about tomorrow and I told him no, because I didn't really think I was. In a way, it was true. When I think about actually being at orientation, and then, later in the week, being in an office, MY new office, and doing actual work, meeting people and thinking about things other than my own silly life, well, that all feels pretty good actually.
But what I'm nervous about is the rest of my life. Like how I never did really spend any time with Evan this week, and I haven't seen Lil in ages and I've been missing her, and that's just a start. I never went in to the Ballard Fiore to see Kevin or Josie, and now I'm never going to see them because I used to go in on weekdays, in the afternoon, after time at my writing studio. And my writing studio! Poor writing studio.
I know, you have no sympathy for me. I can't blame you. I don't have any sympathy for myself either. In fact, I'm kind of tired of myself. Eight months of me time is a lot of ME. I learned that I love being on guest lists and getting VIP passes enough for it to be sort-of obnoxious to the people who have to hear about it later, that sometimes I take a joke too far and that even with all the time in the world, my apartment is still going to be messy and I am going to feel like a lazy writer and I probably won't get the oil changed in my car as often as I should.
On the bright side, I didn't turn into a lush or... well, I didn't turn into a lush.
Tonight I told the other Heather (who was the latest beneficent soul to feed my passion for VIP passes, thank you Hx B!) that all of this was surreal, and she said "It'll sink in after your morning latte." and you know what? I'm counting on her to be right. I'll always have the lattes.