 Days & Nights |
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TiVo Day Friday night I headed to Best Buy and bought myself a TiVo. I was frazzled and vented a little to Lisa while at self-pitying rock bottom and depressed about my inability to make any sense of the 1,000 wires shooting out of various pieces of electronic equipment in my living room and then called Amy and she talked me down off of the ledge of hysteria. I could not figure anything out due to my complicated set-up but somehow it appears to be working through some haphazard miracle. Even Andy got on the phone and said in an Obi Wan manner, "This is how TV was always meant to be watched." Stacey also gave me some tips and I really admire how there are so many of you who are so damn knowledgeable about so many things. My first recording was a 2002 Inside the Actors Studio with Hugh Grant and it was so delightful that I am recommending that all of you with TiVos search for it right now. I'm still not feeling completely one with it but I trust I will overcome my intimidation in baby steps and hop on the TiVO love train in no time. Sponge Day I spent most of Saturday sponge painting my study to mute the tortuous eyeball melting yellow. I have rued the day that I picked out Carriage Light for months now and I finally sponged over it with Creme Brulee, a very very very pale yellow that almost looks white, and it looks so much better that I practically wept with relief even though the sea sponge was falling apart all over the place, I wantonly spilled paint all over the carpet knowing it will be pulled out in the next few months, and random cat hairs are now permanently affixed to the wall. My sponging technique leaves a great deal to be desired -- as in I had no idea what I was doing and the lighter paint is nowhere near evenly applied and there are blobs of whiteness mixed in with bits of desecrated sponge -- but I don't even care. I no longer want to vomit when I enter the room, and that is something. Game Day I really cannot deal with close games. I don't know why I care, but I do. My dad, who is usually required to keep it together during games, was watching from his living room chair and screaming, "GODDAMN PISS SHIT IDIOT MOTHERFUCKERS!" every time the quarterback would make a ridiculous pass. It was all very amusing. I just sat there and ate my mom's perfect tuna salad and tried not to get too stressed out. Luckily, our team won and my dad announced serenely and proudly, "Never in doubt, never in doubt." Shelley Day I picked Shelley up at the airport Sunday morning and we alternately gave Maryelizabeth tough love and moral support about driving from Philadelphia at thirty-four weeks since her recent early contractions prohibit her from flying. It is all very upsetting and her visit home and the baby shower are up in the air pending doctor's orders. I will be very sad if she cannot come, but what are you going to do? Obviously the cervix must remain high and tight as a drum and I will be up there before we know it to visit her. We mulled over the Maryeliz. situation despondently, sat outside and ate burritos for lunch, lounged around my house for a little while, went by J.'s after which I had a small tantrum about feeling completely estranged from him, went to Target and bought nothing but a package of fudge mint oreos which we opened and enjoyed on the way home, and just doodliesquatted around for the afternoon in respective sugar comas. Jeannie brought me her old bed which is lovely, and my dad came over to hang up a piece of metallurgy on the front of my house, and I set up the new bed while watching the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special, and the box spring and mattress fell over and landed on my arm, and then later it started raining and I ran outside in nothing but a t-shirt, underwear, and clogs to put the lawnmower in the utility room to find that it was suddenly freezing outside, and upon my stumbling reentry into the house, I fell over Daisy's crate and knocked over a large potted plant that landed on top of me as I sprawled to the ground in a heap of dirt and shame. I have a large ass bruise. Sad Day Maryelizabeth and her soft cervix are not coming home for Thanksgiving and the shower. Not surprisingly, the doctor regarded her as if she had been smoking poor-quality crack and said no way in hell can she travel lest she go into labor immediately. I promise to fly to Philly as soon as the baby is born and make a chocolate chip cheese ball in celebration of her arrival! It's easy to be morose about this development, but at the same time, this means that Pedrina (not her real name) is coming! And that is nothing to be trifled with. It blows my mind sometimes to think of my friend bearing a youth. When we were little, we had all kinds of songs about bearing youths. One of them went, "Bear down! Bear down! And let the youth out!" It was just one of those nonsensical sing-songy cheers that we had. And now she is about to do it. What? The mind and uterus, they boggle.
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