Hosting

D and I co-hosted our first function last evening to thank those who helped us move.

D put our names on our mailbox and I think my heart skipped a beat. I suppose I hadn't realized that we were living together prior to seeing our names together. He said "I'm sorry I had to put my name first but it sounded dumb the other way." True. Unfortunate, but true.

We got off to a rough start because one of us can't plan ahead so the shopping for vegetables and alcohol was left until last night post-work, giving us exactly one hour to clean the apartment, make cucumber sandwiches, make lasagna (the limiting factor), make a gigantic salad, make brownies, put things out, etc.

D is definitely a more anxious host than me, which I found surprising. I think this is because D is used to having 3 people at most over at a time, whereas my Boston roots trained me to expect no fewer than 40 people. Granted, its been ages since I prepared a meal for over 10 people, but I was the model of composure. I think D's anxiety forced me to chill out.

The lasagna noodles took 10,000 years to boil. We didn't have enough counter space to be working on all of these projects at the same time. D was testy and insecure. He kept asking me "How should I cut the peppers?" "Whatever you think is best." "Do you like the cucumbers peeled?" "I don't care." "Should I put the M&M's in this bowl?" "Whatever you want."

Guests showed up early. D was a bit nervous. We have a list of "Things To Do" on our refrigerator involving the apartment and personal things, such as "Dye Hair Soon." One of the items was "Check for Roof Access," which, for some reason, we hadn't done until last night. We sent The Boss and Bench Buddy on an expedition to see if we had roof access.

When they didn't turn up for quite some time, we concluded that they were either dead or that we do, indeed, have roof access. The remaining guests and I headed up to the roof. I tripped on a step en route, fell over, and managed to spill wine everywhere but not drop the glass. How is that possible? Although, if I had dropped the glass it wouldn't have broken because it was an unbreakable glass from M and A.

And oh! The roof. We are morons for not having investigated sooner. But we have become people who run out of milk and toilet paper because there is too much going on. It was a glorious evening and the sun was setting and we can see The Empire State Building and all of midtown and oh! Exquisite. I held court with a re-telling of the Statue Story involving The Parents for those who hadn't yet heard it. They found it riveting.

We stayed up there too long and forgot to heat up the lasagna. At 9:00 we returned and I drunkenly cooked the lasagna for too long and then didn't let it cool off for long enough, so it became a runny mess but was still oh-so-delicious.

And curse you, NR, for you and your Journey-loving ways! When we sat down for dinner, D put on the Journey video, which is awesome for about ten minutes, but man. Why break up a perfectly nice conversation and force everyone to watch and discuss Journey?

We ate brownies and ice cream (wrong, I know, but it was a special night!) and everyone was gone by 11:00. I did dishes while D mopped everything because he is unable to deal with shoes in the house.

I didn't sleep well because of wine and memory foam, and today I am a wreck, but we had fun and I want to always have people over as long as it doesn't involve lasagna.

Phobia

Apparently the best cure for your fear of public speaking is sleep deprivation. I was too tired this morning to be anxious and anything but utterly poised. Sweet!

I feel a song coming on...

Readers Of My Mundane Life In Song RULE!

(said in the style of "Wyld Stallyns RULE!")

Thank you all so much for the cyber hugs and support.

I felt way less lonely when I read your words this morning.

I wish you all lived in Hell's Kitchen.

Lonely

M said that the best thing would be to have someone at home every night who would be there when you want to cry for no reason.

She didn't mention that he would just fall asleep before asking you how you were and therefore not afford you the opportunity to cry. She didn't mention that then in order to not wake him up you'd spend evenings crying on the couch and trying desperately to fall asleep there. She didn't mention that you wouldn't be able to sleep. She didn't mention that you'd feel claustrophobic and tense and sad and hopeless. She didn't mention that you'd constantly wonder if the self-confessed appeaser is always just appeasing you. She didn't mention how sad it would make you to hear him planning your life for you without asking and being excited about and planning for the race that's taking place in over a month when he can't discuss the trip for which you still do not have tickets (or a destination) that's allegedly occurring next week. She didn't mention that you would want to cry when he tells you that the race is the same week as the fictional Europe trip that won;'t happen because he's appeasing you and not really wanting to do any of these things - If he did he'd plan them with the zeal with which he planned the race logistics. She didn't mention that you'd feel lonelier than you've ever felt, because you can't just make sad phone calls at 1 am anymore to be cheered up. She didn't mention that he'd forget the presentation. She didn't mention that he wouldn't care. She didn't mention that you'd both disappear. She didn't recommend buying a more comfortable couch. She didn't mention how ridiculous it is to be crying by yourself in the livihg room on the eve of your big seminar when you REALLY need to get more than 4 hours' sleep while he's in there blissfully sleeping.

I'm lame because I can't sleep when there are emotions.

I'm lame because I can't quite sleep when I'm lonely.

And even lamer because I can't sleep at all when I feel lonely when I really shouldn't feel lonely.

It makes me want to run away and never look back. The original impetus for moving (alone) was to sleep better. I had no idea loneliness would be louder than the gas station.

The Apartment Has Been Rented!

I guess that's all.

In short:

The guy about whom I declared "This is the guy who is going to rent the apartment!" after talking to him for two minutes rented the apartment.

He is thrilled, ecstatic, bouncing-off-the-walls enamored with my apartment.

When I gave him the keys, he gave me a bottle of wine in exchange. I love when people extend unnecessary kindnesses.

He offered us blinds.

He did a little dance when I gave him the keys and sang "I can't believe I'm a New Yorker!"

He wants to invite me over after he's settled in.

They are charging me rent for all of May even though he now lives there.

They are not, however, charging me the lease-breaking fee because "You have been so sweet and you're such a nice kid and you've been so helpful through all of this so we'll just keep the deposit. I think that's fair. And you have a boyfriend and you're living with him and you're happy and we're happy for you. I think this is fair."

"So do I."

Do I? No, but am I just glad that I don't have to deal with this anymore? Yes. I'd rather pay an extra $300 than have this draw on, have to go there, fill out paperwork, etc. It's worth it to me to just be done with it.

Now all I need are some curtains and I will be officially settled.

WOOOO!!!!!!

Finger Puppets!!!

I ate breakfast today.

I then walked 87 miles to the train in the rain. It really seems like 87 miles when it's pouring.

The weekend was good. Real good.

It started off with macaroni and cheese and one deadly glass of wine with J. We tried to get a psychic reading but were turned away! Do psychics really make enough money to turn people away? I think not! I bought sugar-free goodies and flowers and went home and read and watched The Dying Gaul and slept lots.

I woke up early on Saturday to meet up with LBF, but my plans were thwarted when I discovered that my key to my building no longer worked. I buzzed my neighbors furiously. 2C let me in.

I knocked on their door and said "Hi - ummm - I'm your new neighbor. Have you guys been having trouble getting into the building lately?" 2C explained that this happens at times, and that you just have to jiggle the key in the lock.

I said "But I can't even get my key into the lock at all!"

2C offered to come downstairs with me to demonstrate his jiggling technique. Nice! We discovered that there was indeed something wrong with my key in particular- it was too thick? Curse you, Home Depot! 2C went above and beyond the neighborly call of duty and gave me his key from which to have a new copy made. I ran to a hardware store, made a copy of his key, had my pre-existing key adjusted, ran back to my apartment, let myself into the building (sweet!) after an older couple explained that they'd been locked out for 10 minutes but had moments before jiggled themselves in, ran up to 2C, thanked him profusely, and ran to meet LBF at Rockefeller Center.

There we partook in Art Rock. It was cool. Here are some photos:















We then headed down to Chelsea to check out the John Waters exhibit. Our plans were thwarted when we encountered a street fair! Oh how I love me a street fair.



LBF bought 12 magnets for $5.













For me she purchased a magnet shaped like the perfect food - avocado. Yummmmm.



There were, of course, finger puppets.



And most importantly, a Yoda finger puppet!



And candied apples.



And candied strawberries.



And outfits for your cell phone.



And corn.



Oh how I love a street fair!

We ate burritos and then went to the gallery. I bought a much-needed deep frame at a neighborhood stoop sale on 23rd for $7! Jackpot! We headed downtown to see a disturbing cartoon festival (but awesome - probably one of the best cartoon festivals I've seen - it was consistently good) at The Film Forum. We meandered. We lingered in Washington Square Park. We wandered up to Union Square and ate Indian food. We saw a show at Upright Citizen's Brigade (hilarious - with a skit about puppets!).

It is lovely when people visit because rather than tend to chores and other city nonsense errands blah blah blah, I get to enjoy the city and remember why I live here. I live here because you can walk around aimlessly and be pleasantly suprised by a vat of finger puppets.

After letting myself into the building without a problem because someone has duct taped the lock so the door no longer locks at all, I framed my project in the deep frame after much duress and after slicing my finger open with one of those little brackets in the back of the frame that folds over to keep the art inside. It was gory. Blood dripping everywhere. I watched a bit of Battle In Heaven and decided that I wasn't in the mood to be disturbed. I read and slept lots again.

I have decided that productivity gives me confidence. Yesterday was one of the more productive days I have ever had. I woke up early. I did laundry. I read The Village Voice. I cleaned the apartment from top to bottom in anticipation of our party on Wednesday and of my parents' visit this coming weekend. I ate breakfast and lunch. I talked to Father. I watched some more of Battle in Heaven and decided that I still couldn't handle it. I talked to Mother en route to B & H. I bought the long-overdue polarizing filter and lens cleaner. B & H is magic even on the weekends. I went to Duane Reade. I discovered a small shop that sells vintage/retro glassware and plates. Delicious. I bought only two with polka dots hoping for D's approval and the go-ahead to buy many, many more. I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond and bought new space-efficient photo albums and a curtain. I went home and transferred every single photo from the old photo albums into the new ones. I uploaded photos from the weekend. I ordered prints of photos from the past two months. I cleaned the lens (finally! no more of R's fingerprints in my photos!). I finally watched the rest of Battle in Heaven and will spend the rest of my life trying to forget that I ever saw it. It's an amazing and elegant movie but I can't recommend it to you because I don't recommend that any of you torture yourselves. I played piano for hours. I sang showtunes at the top of my lungs. I made the bed because D was coming home and I know how much he likes a neat bed. I fixed my hair in anticipation of his arrival. I contemplated putting on makeup but decided that makeup in the house is excessive when greeting your boyfriend who should in theory be excited to see you after a week no matter what you look like. I listened to the new Stills album two more times and decided that I don't hate it and actually really like it and can't wait for the show. I made dinner when D arrived. I tried not to miss the quiet. I tossed and turned and missed sleeping in the middle, but enjoyed hearing his breathing.

It was a good weekend. I got lots done, but also had fun. Actually, it was a perfect weekend.