It may be time for some midnight – or at least late night – oatmeal. Or maybe not. It might just be a better idea to leave that for the morning when all the excitement returns. We’re going to see a friend and her new baby tomorrow so rest and avoiding making a mess of myself just for the sake of impulse tonight so close to bedtime is probably inadvisable.
It is Friday night and I am calmer than I have been in a good while, ironic, after a Starbucks-related run of anxiety marring an otherwise peaceful day.
It is a day with a bit of a lip, a bit of an overlook, an aerie from which we have a small sense of perspective.
I am going to be okay. I hope and think it’s actually pretty likely that you will be okay, too.
I decided to wear high heels today. I did this because they were a perfect brown to wear with the skirt that I decided to take off the hanger and try despite the fact that it’s a size too small and still bears its tags from when my mother bought it for me more than a year ago. For some reason, I try it today and find it fits just fine. I also had a green sweater and tights and may or may not have looked like hipster G.I. Jane, the college years. This is of note because I am terrible about wearing high heels. My gait becomes like a newborn giraffe’s, all tentative and akimbo. So loaded on Starbucks, I drive the three minute trek to one of committee members’ house, and clomp across the street in these mostly kitten heels. Here,amongst the shotguns mounted on the wall and the wood paneling (the home was quite beautiful, just very indicative of the owners’ political persuasions) we discussed business pretty heavily, the needs of the market and our plans for discussing with new boss. Then, there was wine I could only sip after realizing how terrible wine tastes as chaser for a frappuccino, with notes of battery acid and cumin, and some actually delicious pozole that my stomach also turned on halfway through. As all of that settled, and some sort of frosting stuffed bundt cake appeared that I didn’t not even begin to contemplate, discussion turned to light, comfortable venting and I spoke my mind, graciously, and found them all supportive and understanding of my lot. It was nice, even as the caffeine about ruined my ability to handle sitting still and breathing, to feel so liked and social and a part of something. To have a role that I understood. Finally, we said goodnight and I made my foolish, awkward way back to my car and while the nerves ran and caterwauled through me, I think it’s a bit obvious that I made it home in one piece.
So, my bed and my sense is calling me. Time to give Queen Mab her due, and submit to Somnus.