|Maybe this little guy is there too.|
I did warn you I felt unmoored.
Alas, such a room full of well preserved states of mind does not exist. I'll have to settle with enjoying them as they come. Otherwise it was a weekend full of food, drink, family and friends. Now THOSE are things at which I have achieved expert status. The end of the year always affords me plenty of opportunity to exercise those hard earned skills. Shall I tell you a bit about it all? I think I shall.
The weekend began in the middle of the week when I decided at the last moment to take Wednesday as a vacation day. The plan was originally to just lie about like a damn sloth but, as usually does happen, I had a few appointments to tend to and the adult section of the abandoned warehouse that is my brain will not allow me to indulge in sloth when I have shit that has to get done. My first stop was the dentist. I haven't been in awhile and after listening to a conversation about dental nightmares at work the other day, I was prompted to make an appointment. Turns out I have a cavity somewhere between two of my teeth. I didn't even really understand that this was a possibility but frankly, I'm surprised this hasn't happened sooner. Compared to some past dentist visits, however, this one was rather tame, even with the chastisement about my lack of flossing. I will have to change my ways to allow more dental floss in my life because knowing my history, I'm likely to next get a cavity in the center of my tongue.
Wednesday also found me in desperate need of a haircut and going to my hair stylist is a useful and fun way to kill several hours so I scheduled an appointment for that too. I showed up about 20 minutes early and whenever I am early for an appointment I feel this urgent need to do something and not just sit there, scrolling across the acreage of my phone. Suddenly I turn into Polly Mustdosomething when I know I only have a short amount of time in which to do it. (This may also be known as "Last Minute Larry" in some circles.) I decided to spend some time in the shop next door that sells every kind of girly makeup in girly containers by girly girls who are generally girlily giddy about how pretty life is inside that store. The girl in there on Wednesday had a very distinctive face with well put together features that I can only describe as looking like she was related to a model. Not a model herself but the relative of one. She was very open and friendly and during the course of the ten or fifteen minutes I was actually inside the store, she told me that she found out her step brother is her actual brother and that she had never met her mother until she was 21. Not exactly shop talk but I suppose you often have to let things out when they have to come out, regardless of who is around. She seemed a bit overwhelmed and I was falling prey to "the ovewhelms by being in such close proximity" so I decided to not buy anything and go sit in the waiting room and, inevitably, scroll through the acreage of my phone.
While was doing this, I overheard a phone conversation the woman seated next to me was having underneath a mountain of tin foil as she waited for the highlights in her hair to take. She was positively brimming with pre-Thanksgiving anger about some slight or another on the part of her mother in law. I couldn't really get the details but they had something to do with mashed potatoes. I thought a little about how and why so many people dread the holidays. If this red faced, shaking woman was an example of what otherwise innocuous side dishes can do to some families on holidays, I would be the kind of person who just feigned illness and stayed at home with a sandwich. Luckily I have never really had to deal with such nonsense. I hope that trend continues for the rest of my entire life.
The Wednesday night before Thanksgiving is always pretty much just a synonym for insanity at the bars. As such, I have avoided all pre-Thanksgiving nights out for a few years now but this year, one of the local concert venues in town was having a 90s concert and seeing as I just got my hair did and nothing to do, I decided to go. I miss the 90s on average, I'd say about 62% of the time. So why not gather together in a big room with a bunch of people who are more than likely exactly my age, who live in my neighborhood, get drunk and reminisce about what we were doing 20 something years ago when Nirvana and Pearl Jam and Soundgarden and Alice in Chains were all heying the day? I was able to drag Dana along with me and we drank heavily and contemplated starting a mosh pit. We didn't but the whole evening felt like someone would at some point just throw their bodies into other bodies out of sheer angst. Just like the 90s.
Thanksgiving day began with both of my cats tenderizing the hungover flesh of my body in an attempt to get me to open the blinds so they could stare at the day, just in case a squirrel happened by or some such comparable event. It worked but I kinda resent them for it even now, a few days later. I headed to my mom's house eventually where I was greeted by all the warmth and family and laughter and booze and food that I have grown accustomed to at family gatherings. Along with trading war stories post hurricane Sandy, I seem to recall a few pilgrim jokes and sarcasm bandied about. Ah, home.
I just realized how damn long this blog entry is (maybe it just feels really long) and so I'll close it up here and begin writing a sequel to be published later. I'm also contemplating blogging every day in December (BEDD?) and I'll need something to talk about won't I? I know the four or five you will be absolutely riveted by 31 days of banal nonsense from me! I know I will.
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