Aftermath

My usually healthy lifestyle seems to have left me unprepared to handle a week of nefarious debauchery. In other words, I have been one hungover puppy, especially today. I went to a party last night, and after some ungodly quantity of wine, I barely made it home without making a public nuisance of myself. (No, I did not lose my dinner on the subway, but that was primarily through sheer force of will.)

Today I was supposed to swim. I was supposed to run some errands. I was supposed to do something fun with my remaining vacation day. Instead I spent the whole time moaning and groaning, holding my head, trying first one hangover remedy, then another, and wondering why in hell it was taking me so long to return to equilibrium. All I can say is, I am perhaps too old for this. Or too accustomed to taking good care of myself to tolerate its opposite for too long.

In any case, at 10pm, I still feel yucky.

On the other hand, I had a lovely time dining with my stepsister this evening, and I feel absolutely no pining for something more fabulous to do for the rest of the night other than what I am currently doing: watching Stargate Atlantis and knitting these here brighter-than-bright mittens for Miz Fury.

Stepsis and I had a nice, and rather helpful, conversation about the rigors of dating NYC men. There were some eerie parallels between her own recent experience and my time with the tantalizing, yet perplexing, blonde. It was, in truth, delightful to have someone to commiserate with. My other friends are either in long relationships or not currently wanting to date, which is, perhaps, why the subject ends up taking up so much space on the blog. I mean, it's not that I can't talk to my friends about it - I do and I can, and Annabelle is particularly sympathetic. But it's a different sort of conversation when you're both having the same kind of experience at the same time. You do more than sympathize; you relate.

So there was that.

In other news, I think I have some post-holiday blues going on. Chalk it up to a couple of recent letdowns in the boyz in the 'hood department, and the fact that I now have to scale back on all the irresponsible spending I've been enjoying for the past few months, and, oh I dunno, the fact that I haven't been able to run very much lately because one of my legs hurts, and when I went to the doctor, she said, "If your leg hurts when you run, stop running," just like that horrible old joke. Bitch, bitch, moan, complain. Here cometh the long slow slog into spring, in other words. Wish I had a fireplace to cheer up the joint.