The alarm of crashing waves goes off at 7:00am. I feel like I can sleep forever. I whack the snooze button. 9 more minutes.
9 minutes later, the waves return. Whack. Another 9 minutes please. No morning meetings. I can snooze.
I’m up by 7:30am. I make the bed. I shower, brush teeth, towel off, contacts in, lotion on, sunscreen on, step on scale.
Dean kisses me good-bye. Knock back one and only 150mg dose of Wellbutrin. I’m weaning myself off, with no plans to renew the prescription. Blouse, skirt, rings, ballet flats on. Mix herbs with hot water, down the mixture, gag, pop two gummy multi-vitamins.
I take a box of chocolate milk and a frozen entree to go. Wool coat on, leave, lock up. Our consistently warm apartment and the peaking sun are deceiving because it’s frigid outside.
I pray while walking down Sutter street. I wait underneath the heated lamps at Starbucks, checking email on my blackberry. Catch the cable car on Powell. Ride up the hill to California. Catch the cable car on California going down toward the Financial District. Get off on Montgomery.
In the office, I pickup the WSJ paper. Log on, check emails, respond, read, work, check stocks, buy one stock. Spend some of the day looking at the Oscars red carpet photos and watching Billy Crystal’s intro that we missed. Over email, I find out from a friend that he’s broken off his engagement. Sounds like it was for the best. Isn’t everything always for the best?
I write a thank you card to our friend who hosted the Oscars dinner. I spend time doing Burning Man work with the guilty feeling that I’m always behind. I get all our tax documents ready to send to our CPA. I search online for at least half an hour choosing a bottle of wine for a friend, only to find out that you can’t ship wine to Boston damnit! My garage renter tells me he’s moving and will no longer need the space. Crap. I call catalog phone numbers, please stop sending me your unwanted paper waste. I try to buy tickets for Cirque du Soleil, but hold off. At 5:30pm, I activate a conference call for new Burning Man volunteers. We do intros, I dive into the ARTery background, I wrap it up at 6pm. I blog about the Oscars red carpet.
Leaving work, I’m in luck. There’s a cable car on the corner ready to whisk me home. I take the California line to Taylor, then walk two blocks down to our apartment. As soon as I walk in, Dean starts gabbing. He follows me as I take my coat off and undress in the closet, talking non-stop. Geeze! But he’s also cooking dinner which is wonderful.
We sit in front of the TV staring at more red carpet fashion, then watching the Bachelor who is so boring and predictable. I download pictures from the weekend, surf the web, and flip through magazines until midnight.
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