Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Goodbye, Columbus
I had the day off yesterday for Columbus Day. Unfortunately, I sort of forgot that I had the day off and got up in a panic thinking that I was running late, ran around the house like a madman for ten minutes, and then realized that I didn't, in fact, have anywhere to be. By which point I was already too awake to go back to sleep. So I just said fuck it and watched The New Adventures of Old Christine for a while. Good times.
This actually was my second rude awakening in as many days; on Sunday, I was awakened by the door buzzer at 6:30 AM, when a houseguest who had left very early in the morning to head back to Michigan unexpectedly returned to our place because she had thrown up in her car. And of course the button that opens the front door wasn't working for some reason, so I had to head down the front steps in my boxers. Fun, sexy times.
At least in that case, though, I had been planning to get up fairly early for the marathon, anyway. This year I wanted to see my friend who's actually one of the fast runners, you see. And of course I utterly failed at that task. I got out there at the beginning -- handbikers, Kenyans, three hour wonders -- but see my friend I did not. Instead, I spent a hour staring at every man in a yellow shirt and holding a sign that said "Jeff, I'm pregnant" and seemed a lot funnier the night before when I was markering it out. True wit seldom survives marker fumes, it seems.
Anyway, Columbus Day happened. Hooray for America.
I had the day off yesterday for Columbus Day. Unfortunately, I sort of forgot that I had the day off and got up in a panic thinking that I was running late, ran around the house like a madman for ten minutes, and then realized that I didn't, in fact, have anywhere to be. By which point I was already too awake to go back to sleep. So I just said fuck it and watched The New Adventures of Old Christine for a while. Good times.
This actually was my second rude awakening in as many days; on Sunday, I was awakened by the door buzzer at 6:30 AM, when a houseguest who had left very early in the morning to head back to Michigan unexpectedly returned to our place because she had thrown up in her car. And of course the button that opens the front door wasn't working for some reason, so I had to head down the front steps in my boxers. Fun, sexy times.
At least in that case, though, I had been planning to get up fairly early for the marathon, anyway. This year I wanted to see my friend who's actually one of the fast runners, you see. And of course I utterly failed at that task. I got out there at the beginning -- handbikers, Kenyans, three hour wonders -- but see my friend I did not. Instead, I spent a hour staring at every man in a yellow shirt and holding a sign that said "Jeff, I'm pregnant" and seemed a lot funnier the night before when I was markering it out. True wit seldom survives marker fumes, it seems.
Anyway, Columbus Day happened. Hooray for America.
