Ever have one of those days where you know from the moment you leave the house that it just cannot go well?
I wanted to turn around and go home before the first subway stop, when I learned that half of the 1 line between me and civilization was shut down. And while it’s true that I stopped listening after I first heard the words “shuttle bus,” I should point out that there would have been at least three more steps involved in picking up the 1 on the other side of the construction break.
I wanted to turn around. But I was on my way to meet Mary, and then rush over to meet Andrea, who was already (legitimately) skeptical of how much time it had taken me to walk out my door in the first place. And if I turned around now, I would never make it out to Tiffanie’s birthday party later, and I really wanted to go.
Besides, I had just invested in an all-day Metro card.
What followed was an ugly snarl of subway lines, peppered with stupid mistakes of my own. It was in the high 70′s in January, and it feels like I spent more than half the afternoon underground. To add insult to injury, what set this all in motion was that I need to get the lovely bracelet that Nick gave me for Christmas resized (I have freakishly small wrists). And that, as it turns out, will be quite a challenge, and I don’t even know where I can get it done, so…. So I spent the evening fretting, with the thing still tucked safely in my purse.
And false starts were the order of the day: one of the reasons I was so adamant about going to Tiffanie’s party (which, although far away, was at least easily accessible–by yet another line that was shut down) was that I hoped to see an old friend who had left me a mysterious voice mail the day before. Naturally, she did not attend, although she might have been the only 20-something in Manhattan who was not packed into Fat Baby last night.
To top off the evening, a giant rat jumped out at Andrea and me on 78th St. When I first saw it, I prayed that it was a cat, and when it bumped into her leg, and she said it felt a whole lot like her dog, but we saw it running away across the street. And it was just a giant rat. And although we both let out one heartfelt scream apiece, the two frat boys about fifty yards ahead of us didn’t even flinch, much less turn around to make sure no one was, say, being raped. Thanks, guys.
Anyway. It was fine; everything was fine. I got lots of quality time with friends (some of whom I haven’t seen in months), and I got to tell Andrea that I hadn’t killed her hyacinth after all (my mother read my last entry and told me that that’s what they do–they need to be propped up. She also implied that I really need to chill out a little).
And today I get to shake it off and start fresh, and that is even better news.