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Some days, I really hate my brain. It can think, �Gee, I feel out of shape� in the same two minutes as it thinks, �gee, I�d really like a cookie.� No cookies for it. I have a dress to wear in 179 short days!
Yep, we�ve passed the six-month mark, kids. It�s becoming so soon.
I�m not quite as overwhelmed by it all as I was right after David died, when I kept hearing how good it was that we had the wedding to plan and look forward to. It doesn�t feel quite so much like the Great White Hope any more. This is good.
I am tired today. Tired and foggy. I arrived home last night to find Chris in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. Which was a wonderful way to come in. Truly. But it�s funny, the difference between how I think about dinner and how the men around me think about dinner. We�ll both start in the same place��I took those steaks out of the freezer yesterday, so we should eat those tonight.� But with them�with both Chris and the Boyfriend, the thought process ends there. With me, I go from there to, �I think we have potatoes I could mash, or maybe rice�rice would taste good. Oh, and that squash Mom made me bring home would go well, too. I wonder if we have any bread.�
Chris would happily sit down and eat just steak for dinner. The unwitting Atkins Dieter, I guess. Me, I microwaved a potato and heated up some frozen vegetables. I just couldn�t handle the meat alone on the plate.
(As frequently happens when I�m writing these entries, about an hour and a half has passed since I typed that first sentence. I gave in and ate the cookie. Bad me.)
Anyway�
So I ate dinner with Chris, which was actually pleasant. He was in a fairly good mood, especially considering the fact that I�d left him alone all weekend, but he apparently went out both Saturday night and Sunday, so he didn�t feel neglected as he sometimes does. After dinner, I planned to clean my room while I watched Seventh Heaven and Angel.
It was a good plan.
My room really needs to be cleaned.
My room especially needs to be cleaned because we will be in New York all weekend this weekend, and my mom is planning to stay in my apartment the night we get home, which means it needs to be clean when we leave.
I knew all of this.
Instead, I sat on the couch and made three cards to send out. I had a completely unsatisfying conversation with the Boyfriend during which I decided that we should never try to communicate when we�re both overtired. I ate a root beer Popsicle. I paid a couple bills. I watched the last moments of Angel and got totally confused (�At least I would have had something to snack on�?! What the hell?!). I waited for the weather and mentally planned my wardrobe for the rest of the week. But I did not clean one square inch of my bedroom.
Oh well. There�s always tonight, I suppose. Post-Buffy. And tomorrow.
I love it when I play the leave-it-to-the-last-minute-and-then-scramble-around-like-a-lunatic game. I�m so good at it.
I am looking forward to this weekend, though. I�ve only been in New York City once before, when the Artboy, Jim and I went to stay with Jim�s brother. This time, my mom, Erica and I are going to celebrate our friend Judy�s 50th birthday. Her husband is putting us up in a hotel, sending us to see The Tale of the Allergist�s Wife, sending us out to dinner�essentially funding whatever Judy wants to do to make her birthday special. My mom is so excited about this trip. I think we both need this space away. It will be good. No �so�how are you doing?� phone calls from well-meaning friends. No frantic and accusatory calls from my uncle, who is in a panic about the sale of Nana and Papa�s house. No �real� life. Just three days in the city that never sleeps.
Now if y�all will excuse me, I think I�m going to go look for a place to take a nap. I�ve gotta rest up, what with all that room cleaning and celebrating in my future�
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