I hate the day after New Years. The streets are littered with empty beer bottles, the roof deck is littered with silly string and the refrigerator is bursting at the seams with leftovers from Monday night’s party. (If this seems like a good thing, it’s not. Not after multiple Thanksgivings, multiple Christmas dinners and multiple holiday parties. I had five parties in one night the week before last—one of each of my five Monday night tap classes. I did very well during the first three but by 8:00pm, I could no longer resist the allure of Red Dye 40 and ended up eating an entire plate of Cheetos. What self-respecting 27 year old eats Cheetos?)
At any rate, I’m feeling fat and hung over, which is, I suppose, the mark of a good New Years but as I sit at my desk in my pjs thinking, “Damn, it’s 9:00am and I haven’t written a word for my blog this morning,” I can’t help but feel depressed.
TWD has gone back to New Jersey, my college friends have gone back to Baltimore and my brother has gone back to wherever it is he’s been sent by his fleet manager. I would like to go back to bed but this, unfortunately, is not an option.
At any rate, I suppose I ought to say a few words on the subject of New Years Eve.
The Great Ice Wars of 2012 were resolved (although there was much eye rolling) and TWD’s parents seemed to enjoy themselves. Of course, we haven’t spoken since I walked them to the door around 2:00am but for all intents and purposes, I think the initial meeting was a success.
After midnight, my old roommates started acting all weird and giggly and when I demanded to know what was going on, they confessed to having bet money on whether or not TWD was going to propose. My suitemate now owed my roommate a dollar (and entire dollar!) and as if that wasn’t enough, my neighbor (who is psychic apparently) told me that it’s only “my issues” that are holding him back so I need to work them out…
(Doesn’t anyone understand that there is a difference between being obsessed with weddings and obsessed with marriage?)
Sleeping arrangements were left up to my brother and me this year so instead of the late night/early morning shenanigans of 2011, I spent the night with TWD from start to finish.
This was a nice change, especially as I’d attempted to steal him away for a pre-midnight make out session in my bedroom only to discover that he was holding a peanut and M&Ms popcorn ball in his hand the whole time.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Downstairs. I didn’t know you were calling me upstairs to make out.”
“Why else would I be calling you upstairs?”
“I don’t know…”
So much for that. Evidently I was too subtle for my own good.
- In the Event of an Apocalypse… (fieldworkinstilettos.com)
- A Little Square Box (fieldworkinstilettos.com)
- My Garter Belt Christmas Fiasco (fieldworkinstilettos.com)