A weekend without any responsibilities. Friday night I got caught up talking Wing Chun with Mark for hours and missed out on Barnes and Noble, but read much at home anyway. I walked to work on Saturday and felt great, haven’t been too physical lately the walk reminded me of the fact that I feel good when being active and I need to do this more often. Erin and Rand stopped by and gifted me with penguins which made me smile lots…especially the finding of a Vintage Starbucks Coffee Mug I once had, but lost.
I worked on our database for 6 hours which will likely go unnoticed and went home, crawled in bed with a terribly upset stomach over eating the worlds crappiest Chicken Finger Sub and attempt at French Fries at Casa de Pizza. I was without cash and without a quick place to grab food so I called, used plastic and will make sure never to do so again. The sub was dry and the fingers were stringy and the fries tasted like they were cooked in old, burnt oil. So unhappy I made my body. So unhappy. I hate that my body hates me now when I eat like crap, it used to just be my exceedingly poor self image and loathing after eating shit food Now my physical body also reminds me. Nice. I briefly spoke to my ex in D.C. who called from the swanky event of the evening in town (I am sure you read about it in the papers) and wondered how on earth I can even know someone from such a different world than I, not to mention have previously dated. I felt grateful that I could just crawl under the covers and neglect the evening. And felt weirdly sorry for all of my friends out there with babies who can never just crawl under the covers and tune out the world again because someone else is out there depending on them. And then I felt guilty for feeling weirdly sorry and remembered that just the other day, I was so excited about having children of my own, sometime in the future. Sigh…So much for Saturday night. Sunday morning was perfect and wonderful and I was able to just be in bed for hours and listen to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me” and the Spring Rain and quiet thunder and the birdies…while wrapped in the arms of my love (which is my most favorite part of any time of day or night) and then we got up, put on clothes for a wake and then went to brunch where they just ran out of sun-dried tomatoes and drove to a funeral home 20 minutes away and greeted a dear man who lost his 93 year old mother. Left the funeral home and reiterated the part about hating funeral homes and wakes more than anything in the world, hate the passing conversations and greetings made among the close and not so close friends and family members and acquaintances all among the body of the no longer with us looming from the corner of the room. I rarely, rarely, if at all, attend a wake for someone I’ve not met. Trust me, I’ve been to so very many where I am in the spotlight as the family member doing the greeting that I choose to stay as far away, for my own mental health. I hate them. I go when it it is someone close to me who has passed or someone close to me who has lost someone, but in 99% of those cases, if I am close to someone, I have met the person who has passed away as well. I’m selfish. I know this and I can’t do anything about it. I hate being selfish. But, I hate funeral homes more. When I die, please go give blood, volunteer with friends, take flowers and visit people in nursing homes who never get visitors… do something to help someone and then all get together somewhere far away from any building where my physical body should be and drink and talk and eat and cry and love and laugh and remember me. But dear God, do not put me in a room with big flower arrangements with ribbons that say *Aunt* and *Daughter* and greet people and sign a book and be introduced and make small talk. Please, please just don’t, thank you. After the funeral home time was spent at Borders and then we picked up a few good for you items at the Co-Op had some *I can’t believe this isn’t meat* Nachos.
And other stuff happened that I previously mentioned but have since deleted for my own well being. And NOW? I’m going back under the covers again, because I can. How was your weekend?