Wednesday, May 23, 2007

the reluctant partier ...

what i want to do: lay in my bed and read the new michael chabon book. maybe go for a run. page boredly through back issues of the new yorker. listen to a mix tape. shave my legs with a dull razor.

but it's wine night. bubbles brought two bottles back from francey pants. jcrew bought the cheese. f. scottie is penciled in to bring more wine. somehow, despite having the central hillsidiest of apartments, a shedding and needy cat, and a couch less comfortable than sexual innuendos when you're watching the lifetime movie network with your mom, i was invited to host.

i never used to even get invited to wine parties. back then it was rumored that i didn't like wine and i didn't especially like girls. now, not only am i invited, i get to scrub my toilet so jcrew's hair doesn't get dirty when she purges wine and cheese stew at 1 a.m.

i'm a little crabby right now, with no external reason. and i'm not especially in the mood to drink anything stiffer than vitamin water. lately i've come to enjoy falling into a coma of genuine sleep, rather than fitful catnap-pass-out fests interupted by gas station burritos and bathroom breaks and the feeling that -- inside my body -- my organs are waging a protest rally.

a few nights ago i woke around 5 a.m. and ran to the window and ripped open the curtain. the sky was peach and orange and bright yellow.

"what are you doing?" chuck asked.
"it's a crazy storm," i said.
it was raining super hard, like it maybe it would bounce when it hit the ground.
in the morning, i couldn't remember if it was real or if i had, again, sleep walked and just imagined a storm. chuck didn't remember rain. but he remembered me standing at the window talking about a "crazy storm."

the next night i had a dream that i was trying to decide between attending NYU or harvard for grad school. i was touring NYU.

"if i get in here, i'm going here," i told my mom.
she gave me a disappointed look.
"just wait to decide," she said.
"i don't want to go to harvard," i told her. and it sounded silly.

i love sleeps like that.

right now i'm hiding at the laundrymat. i used a personal triage system to whittle about eight loads of laundry down to two loads of laundry. back home i have to vaccuum. wash dishes. shower. take out the garbage. convince myself to be fun.

it's a wine night i don't want.
but it is a wine night that i probably need.

4 comments:

brandy said...

Hope the night went well. I find that I'm having more and more moments where I too, want the 'genuine' sleep and to wake up in the morning with my liver not crying in pain. So you are defintely not alone!

Anonymous said...

Love the line about having to clean your toilet so JCrew's hair doesn't get dirty. Almost spit up laughing.

viciousrumours said...

I hope you had fun. Personally, I would have called everyone and told them I was ill and needed a "mental health night". I'm crazy like that. I love Chabon. I'm picking the new one up this weekend. Ever dream about something so real you wake up and call the person you dreamed about to confirm it?

christina said...

i love chabon, too. but the new chuck palahniuk book is mocking me as i try to finish this one. ugh.