Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Post-Christmas mini-hangover and sleep deprivation diary

9:42 AM - I am one of those sad suckers at work today, watching the tumbleweeds go by. Everyone is either sleeping off last night's drinks or eating bon bons in bed, as far as I'm concerned.

10:04 AM - A From LA is in town, hence the mirth and merriment that kept me out past my self-imposed 11:30 curfew and had me holding up my finger, saying "Just one more". Twice. At Niagra Bar of all places.

10:51 AM - I love how I'm on the phone with my mother and she starts launching into a big diatribe about my relationship with my brother. But after I tell her this is not a conversation to have while I'm at work, she keeps repeating back to me "Like I said, this is not a conversation to have while you're at work". Grrr.

11:41 AM - As we're watching my parents' neurotic dog, Jaxon, while they're away, we've been overly concerned with his well-being. He's depressed, he misses them, and being a country dog, he is very confused as to life in the big city. So his toilet habits are serious indicators of his well-being during his stay with us. This is where shrubbery comes in, essential in order for him to successfully execute. So we patiently search this morning at 2 am, for that one perfect shrub in the caverns of Wall Street. And thankfully, we do eventually find it.

Which is why my last recollection as I fall asleep is C saying to me, with his eyes closed and a smile on his face: "I'm happy because it was good to hang out with those guys again. And I'm happy because Jaxon pooped."

1:50 PM - I'm back from an extra-long lunch break that included stops to the library and checking out the post-Christmas sales, all necessary to recharge my tired batteries. And not one e-mail, not one stinking e-mail. Remind me why the office is open again? Thus, the plotting to sneak out early begins.

2:32 PM - Sending e-mails to myself has not improved aforementioned situation.

3:07 PM - Did I mention the in-laws are coming tomorrow? And did I mention that originally they were talking about doing Times Square for New Year's?

Oh. Yes.

Thankfully, we were able to convince them that this was an irrefutably bad idea, well in advance, but I could never perfectly sum up in words why. But now, having come up a well-put summation of those feelings, I can present this to you feel and vindicated. This, my friends, is why.

And this totally has nothing to do with the year I was mistaken for a prostitute by a tourist while I was trying to find my friends at some bar in the area. Because obviously, a short dress and knee-high boots on New Year's Eve can only mean just one thing.


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