the beauty of more than two days off

It’s amazing how having four days off allows you to do the things you want to do. Typically weekends are so rushed with packing in coffees with friends you don’t get to see enough and making appearances at parties and running errands to replace burned out light bulbs and paper towel, they’re often not relaxing.

Yesterday, I slept until 11 a.m., made my espresso, threw in a load of laundry and lounged on my couch until I agreed to go for a long run with S. We ran 9 miles through Rock Creek. I bought myself a Tryst chai, got home at 3:30, baked a goat cheese and vegetable lasagna (I know that’s random), took a shower and decided to go see the movie “Juno” solo. I wandered down to E Street Cinema, got a box of Whoppers and a small Barque’s root beer and walked into the packed stadium theater while the previews were already playing. The movie was laugh-out-loud over-and-over again funny, and as soon as the credits rolled, I slipped out.

I had put my brother’s birthday present (Season 3 of “Lost” — he can imitate the opening line to each episode “Previously on Lost” perfectly, it’s eerie) in my purse and walked the seven city blocks past the Verizon Center to his apartment. His friend John, who went to high school with us, was in from New York with his girlfriend Kim. Kim was adopted from Korea and brought up by immigrant European parents in the Midwest, just like my friend Kimmy from Kalamazoo College who lives in Manhattan. My new goal is to have them meet. We all went to Zola for my brother’s birthday dinner and then to 18th St. Lounge for drinks, where we sat at the back bar.

An insanely drunk guy who, save for not being able to hold his wobbly head up because he was so inebriated, might have been attractive asked me over and over again to dinner. My brother was entertained because I egged this guy on.

Here was the conversation: “If I call you tomorrow and ask you to dinner, will you go?” “No, I probably won’t.” “But I want to take you to dinner. Will you go to dinner with me?” “Well, if I thought you’d remember me tomorrow maybe I’d be interested.””I’ll remember. I will. I have a million great qualities, more than other guys. I can talk a lot. Guys are boring when they’re quiet, right? I talk a lot.” “Oh really. That’s a great quality. What are the other million minus one qualities.” “I’m nice.” “Yeah, you won’t remember me tomorrow.” And on. He then told me I had a good stomach (I said, “How do you know, I’ve been sitting on this stool this whole time”) and he lifted up his shirt to show me his. Then he tried to touch mine in a “I’m really drunk and move slowly” way. Each time he tried, I grabbed his wrist and moved it back into his space and his arm fell limply and he tried again.

I eventually gave him a fake number, which he put into his phone. My brother told me after this guy finally gave up that watching the interaction was hilarious and my brother knew I could handle myself, but if drunk guy got aggressive, my brother was ready to jump in to protect me.

I woke up late again this morning. The sky is full of clouds and it’s quiet in my apartment. I may sit on my couch and read all day — and not feel guilty about it.


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