This past weekend was fantastic.
Friday night was all about spending quality time in the cottage with the cat. I pulled out the vacuum to do some cleaning, but the cat looked so serene, I decided to put it off until she stopped looking cute, and we settled in to watch DVD’s.
Saturday, I went to the gym and then my bookstore job, but I got a headache that I couldn’t quit, and I left work early. I got home and took a three hour nap (a three hour nap,) woke up, bought some flowers, planted the flowers, and fired up my grill for the first time. I made some kebabs and watched a full disk of Arrested Development, season 2. By the time that was over, it was too late to vacuum because the neighbors were asleep.
On Sunday, the plan was to do some vacuuming and then meet Birmingham on the other side of the river so we could go to the East Durham Irish festival. However, I woke up late, and lounged around reading the New Yorker, and by the time I was ready to vacuum, it was time to leave. Birmingham and I had a most wonderful afternoon of traditional Irish music, gigantic beers and sudden thunderstorms. The evening culminated when the Young Dubliners took the stage and we danced in a decidedly non-rhythmic way thanks to our oh-so-white heritage and a half dozen 32-oz glasses of Guinness. Many hard core fans in the crowd were happily singing along with all the songs, even the ones in Gaelic. They’re such a great band.
As you can imagine, Monday morning was all about sleeping in. I had big plans to vacuum the house, and Birmingham was going to do some work at his mom’s before we attended a barbecue at his friend’s place. But one thing led to another, and many snoozes later, there was no denying it: we were out of time to get anything productive done. We freshened up and arrived to the party fashionably late, and stuffed ourselves to the gills to compensate. Feeling light in our hearts but heavy in our middles, we dropped in on Flick, who was having a small gathering of kickballers. I was at first worried that Birmingham wouldn’t want to be dragged to another party, but as soon as he saw that there were girls in bathing suits, he was more than happy to stay and watch people play cards. With all intentions of just stopping by briefly to say hello before getting to my vacuuming, I left about four hours later, after many Doritos and some pizza. (I’m a good vegetarian, really!) After the party, I had just enough time to get my stuff ready for swimming in the morning and a nice chat with Mom & Dad, who just got home from a trip to England.
That brings me to this morning. I went swimming, and against my nature, but with the encouragement of the coach, I did sprints: 6 laps, each under a minute, with 15 seconds of rest in between. Let me say, have you ever felt the sensation of every single cell in your body exploding as you feebly attempt to get enough air to live? I’m now lucky enough to say that now I have thanks to the sprints.
I’m now up to now, where I have a lot of work ahead of me. Some changes in the office mean that I’m “going to have to stop spending all day reading blogs and do some actual work” as Birmingham so lovingly put it. Full disclosure: he’s simply jealous that at work he has the “intranet” meaning he can look at work and work-approved sites, making all blog reading at work unpossible. But I’m not gonna poke fun at him anymore, because we had a truly wonderful weekend.
Today, I have to leave work early to take the train to the city to meet with Sister Alyson and Dad for a Giants game that happens to be played at Shea Stadium. (My father is still a New York Giants fan despite the fact that they’ve been playing in San Francisco for oh, FIFTY YEARS or so.) That’s loyalty, and you gotta love and make fun of him for it. The game starts at 7, I’m hoping to keep the family tradition by staying until the bitter end no matter how badly my dear Mets are trampling the hapless Giants, catch the subway back to Grand Central in order to make the late train home.
Oh, and let me reiterate that through all this, I’m hoping to show up for work at 8 in the morning every day.
Wednesday is pretty calm. I’ll have to try and stay that way, despite missing my normal yoga class for the Mets game. After work on Wednesday, I’ve got to go to (freaking!) Brooklyn for a party with young booksellers. Yeah, it’s a tough job, having to go to parties on my nights off, but what can I say, I love selling books, and I’m willing to get intimate with Metro-North in order to meet up with my fellow book lovers. Even if it means missing my precious and necessary eight hours of sleep.
Just so you know what kind of commitment this is, the train from Grand Central Terminal to the last stop on the Hudson line is about an hour and thirty minutes. Then, there’s the 15-20 minute drive home from the train.
I have this vauge notion that I can get home from (freaking!) Brooklyn on the late train Wednesday and still get enough sleep to go swimming on Thursday morning, so I can relive the feeling of having all my cells die at once. First thing in the morning. After getting home after midnight. There is a chance I may not make it.
Again, I work all day Thursday and after work, despite the fact that Thursday kicks off Book Expo America, and nerds of all stripes will be meeting and partying in (freaking!) Brooklyn, I’ll be playing kickball with Team Underpants in the Mid-Hudson Valley, because I’m dedicated like that. Hopefully, I’ll be up to kick at least twice in the game so it feels worthwhile. Directly after the game, it’s down to New Jersey so that I can hitch a ride to BEA with the parents first thing Friday morning, and maybe some free laundry.
Friday, Saturday & Sunday = Book Expo America!
Monday resumes my normal life. I hope this post didn’t bore you too much, I just needed to see it to believe it. Also, I wanted you to know that if I’m not updating or commenting as much as usual, that’s why. I assure you, my absence will likely have nothing to do with me vacuuming my cottage.
