In Queens with Queens — The Social Experience
It's a bad sign when the red bull doesn't help keep your eyes open. All I can think about it rushing home at 5:00 and getting an hour nap before the husband comes home and demands things of me.
Last night was ladies movie night in Queens. We'd taken some time off from our weekly movie nights over the summer. One of us went to Alaska for three months, one of us worked two jobs, and one of us got married and went on their honeymoon. The summer was busy but now everyone is back and settled and ready for more food, wine, and estrogen. Oh yes, and movies. Last night was the third one since our break and apparently we're not quite ready for the movie portion of our evenings. We chattered and laughed and played with the blind kitty. We drank wine and ate tomato pepper soup with grilled cheese followed by cinnamon orange slices and white chocolate morsels. In the middle of it all we occasionally paid attention to the movie, lost momentarily in the plot and then hypnotized by the beautiful costumes, lavish scenery, and amusing British accents.
I forced myself to leave at Midnight. The weather outside was pouring rain, strong wind, and very dark. I wanted to stay all night, to spend time with my two crazy ladies and the two crazy black cats, to watch movies and chat and eat and drink until dawn.
Instead I was blown and tossed by the wind, splattered and soaked by the rain, and beaten into submission by the clock.
I woke up again at 6:30 this morning and swore I'd just gone to bed. I considered calling work and telling them that I was dead, and that I was very sorry but ghosts just can't use laptops, it's a something with the circuits and gosh darn it I guess I'd just have to stay home, forever. But Commodore sits there, next to my face and stares at me with his huge blue/gray eyes and I swear he's communicating with my soul. He just stares at you, searching your eyes and you can almost hear him in the back of your head, revealing the secrets of the world. It's one of the reasons I call him Buddha. And, like every morning, that stare is what makes me get up, and start my day. Days like today something in my brain turns off and I suddenly switch to auto pilot and somehow manage to shower and dress myself and find my way to the subway. Even now I'm wondering where yesterday ended and today began, it all just seems so ... endless.
Crazy Cat Lady wrote:
only the wine is endless. and so are british dramas. holy cow are they endless. you are welcome to sleep on the futon whenever you like
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