|He just wanted to open a damn gas station.|
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
I put on my complain pants today. They don't fit.
I may be experiencing a holiday season hangover. I can't really blame my doldrums on work, seeing as this week I'm only working three days and only four hours out of those three days at that. I have tried and failed a few things to ease myself back into some kind of sense of not being in a funk. These things included but were not limited to: cleaning my refrigerator (it was rather nasty and shameful), finally putting batteries in my digital point and shoot camera to take quirky photos of junk and the neighborhood (haven't taken one yet), set up an online dating profile in the hopes of meeting a man who is single, attractive, interesting, not weird with commitment issues or embarrassing online photographs and not 21 years old (this whole process made me even more depressed and I quickly took that profile down), took out my flute and tried to play it only to realize it needs to be tuned up (and after pricing such a thing online realized it was way to expensive for a whim), tried to arrange several plans with different friends only to be shot down because people have lives and I don't this week (woe is me), stuffed my face with marzipan fruit shaped candies (my stomach hurts) and watched a French musical, namely The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (which I found to be a bit melodramatic and blah. Yes even Catherine Deneuve prancing around in yellow didn't cheer me up.)
So, seeing as I have roughly two more days left of this week (that aren't holidays) I decided that tomorrow I'm going to visit the Met. I'll be car-less (my car is going into the shop for an undisclosed amount of money) and, as is well documented, if one thing cheers me up, it is a trip to NYC. There is a Stieglitz exhibit that I'm interested in and after carefully researching all the different exhibits currently going on now, I decided to go with the one that is closing soon. And if a well earned back ache from long lines and museum going doesn't cheer me out of my post holiday funk, nothing will. Well, maybe booze.