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As the bus shoved itself away from the curb, I walked to my car, neatly fished keys out of pocket, unlocked the passenger door. Leaned inside the car, opened my driver's side door from the inside. I really need to get that fixed, one of these days. I just never really use the car much any more.
In short order: hair cut (just the tiniest trim, by a transvestite/transgendered woman that looked an awful lot like Tootsie), cat food purchased, hair dye purchased. A quick zip over to Microcenter for a copy of Quicken.
And then home, with no television, just websites and streaming audio from the BBC. I feel somehow worse than I could have imagined in this moment. There's adrenaline coursing through me, causing me to feel nauseated, aimless, restless. I am so tired.
Last night, Svetlana scored some immense girlfriend points by heading back out to the laundromat after I realized that my comforter and quite possibly several bath towels and bedsheets were still in a washer and/or dryer. I don't know how I could have forgotten; I am a laundromat expert by now, and although I really should write down the numbers of the dryers, I've always prided myself on remembering each and every machine I'm using, no matter how spread apart they are.
I was so aching and exhausted, and the edge of pre-war crap was coloring nearly everything by that point. She was gone and back in no time, it seemed, and it turned out that the comforter and sheets were in a dryer after all, and totally dry.
I don't remember doing that, but I must have.
So here I am now, way over-tired, feeling the dread I felt back in 1991, a good deal closer to the surface. I don't know what to do with all these emotions; nothing seems appropriate.
The income taxes are done, though. I mailed those off this afternoon.
Life goes on, and it doesn't.
Nauseated or no, I really need to go to bed.
In short order: hair cut (just the tiniest trim, by a transvestite/transgendered woman that looked an awful lot like Tootsie), cat food purchased, hair dye purchased. A quick zip over to Microcenter for a copy of Quicken.
And then home, with no television, just websites and streaming audio from the BBC. I feel somehow worse than I could have imagined in this moment. There's adrenaline coursing through me, causing me to feel nauseated, aimless, restless. I am so tired.
Last night, Svetlana scored some immense girlfriend points by heading back out to the laundromat after I realized that my comforter and quite possibly several bath towels and bedsheets were still in a washer and/or dryer. I don't know how I could have forgotten; I am a laundromat expert by now, and although I really should write down the numbers of the dryers, I've always prided myself on remembering each and every machine I'm using, no matter how spread apart they are.
I was so aching and exhausted, and the edge of pre-war crap was coloring nearly everything by that point. She was gone and back in no time, it seemed, and it turned out that the comforter and sheets were in a dryer after all, and totally dry.
I don't remember doing that, but I must have.
So here I am now, way over-tired, feeling the dread I felt back in 1991, a good deal closer to the surface. I don't know what to do with all these emotions; nothing seems appropriate.
The income taxes are done, though. I mailed those off this afternoon.
Life goes on, and it doesn't.
Nauseated or no, I really need to go to bed.
