Tuesday, October 12, 2010
The Day After
I realize that I'm a huge disappoint to some of you, but one of the highlights of my day was getting into bed between freshly ironed sheets. While I didn't do any work on the manuscript yesterday, I did some meditative ironing as I considered some changes I want to make to that work in progress. I had to bat away thoughts about the next book I want to write. Focus, focus...
I made up for my domestic indulgence by playing drinking games with the cats. Those felines can put away the whiskey when they're drinking competitively. We watched a rerun of Jersey Shores and every time someone got bleeped, you had to drink. I ended up wasted on a combination of what was left in the liquor cabinet, a quarter cup of Marsala wine and a shot or two of cooking sherry with an expiration date of 1997.
I'm probably on the Queen's shit list because I totally forgot to call her back to tell her I wouldn't be coming to tea. In my inebriated state, I did manage to drunk dial three old boyfriends and my Senators' offices. I think I'm supposed to be making a large donation to some conservative cause. Good thing I told them I was Rachel Maddow. They'll never call her office to follow up.
MathMan and Nate arrived home bringing with them a decadent chocolate cake. The annual fight over who would have the privilege of torturing me by scrawling my age in frosting across the top of the fudgey confection broke out, I screamed obscenities and threatened to run away from home, a plate was smashed in the ensuing melee, fire broke out when some whiskey reeking cat jumped up on the counter and yawned next to the 45 blazing candles and then Happy Birthday was sung in double time.
The cake was delicious. Kroger, you done good. We just worked around the flecks of melted wax, cat hair and fire extinguisher foam.
Things eventually settled down. MathMan got to work writing some kind of math test, Nate and Sophie ridiculed the television program they were watching and I went back to thanking people for their birthday wishes while I secretly tried to reconstruct a couple of those drunk dialed phone convos. Had I really told that one guy about what my mother had said about him? I was going to have to send an apology for sure. Maybe some flowers. Wait. No. That would seem like a dig. A gift card to The Bass Pro Shop. Yeah, that would sooth my conscience and reinforce his masculinity. Damn my mother and her opinions anyway.
MathMan stood, stretched, said something about being tired and walked into the bathroom. "Honey?" He opened the door a smidge and stuck his head out.
"Yes?" I looked up from the laptop.
"Why is there a UPS uniform hanging on the back of the door?"
How is your Tuesday shaping up? Ever drunk dialed anyone? And what happened to the UPS guy?