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Lusty Lady

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Thursday, January 26, 2012

Scarf love

I bought a scarf today. I had seen one like it on someone earlier this week and thought, That looks so warm. It was raining today and I am going to Milwaukee soon but the real reason I bought it wasn't warmth so much as comfort. It's the kind of scarf that I will want to sleep with, and very likely will, the kind I wish I could transform into a blanket or sweater. It's comforting, and that is worth the price alone. It's also big, so even I will be hard pressed to lose it.

I was sitting in Housing Works Bookstore Cafe when I started this post (and am super excited about my Best Sex Writing 2012 panel here April 25th, details of which are being finalized) but got sidetracked by a deluge of to dos. I had a huge list of errands to run and stopped there to browse and realized I needed to sit down, not even for tea or coffee, but just to sit. I will be sitting for a lot of hours tomorrow; my first of three flights leaves at 6:30 am and I arrive in Honolulu at 8:16 pm, which is 1:16 am New York time, that sitting felt right. I scrapped most of the to dos, like my nails, got toothpaste and sunscreen, and now have the scarf around me in my living room. My bedroom is warmer but I'm afraid it will make me sleep, and that will have to wait for the plane. I kindof want to take the scarf with me but you don't take a scarf to the beach, do you?

I would say more but I literally don't even know what to say at the moment. I can see that I get stuck in patterns of thinking that seem so real I have to shake myself out of them and remind myself I made them up, remind myself that I don't have to be holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop when things go well. I don't want to be the kind of person who can only find solace in escape, but realizing how ill-equipped I am for that word, vacation, how little I know what it means, is unsettling. "I can call you next week to go over this," I wrote to someone I'm working on a project with. "No, I will not call you while you're on vacation. I wouldn't talk about work if I was on vacation, so you shouldn't have to." She's totally right, and yet...I wanted to tell her no, I would talk to her. It feels like it might be the only quiet time I have to do it. Some days I like that pace, but I don't want being busy to only work because it takes my mind off of darker topics.

I almost started crying today at Waffle and Wolf, over a Groupon. I could feel my grasp on the day, and my sanity, drifting away like quicksand. I almost stepped outside because I felt so dumb for not being able to find a piece of paper that I predicted just yesterday I would likely lose. What is it with me and paper? But the man who runs Waffle and Wolf is very nice and knows me now because I'm there so much and wrote out my credit and my friend and I got our waffles and ate and I was not the greatest friend because I kept frantically checking my email but this is a friend who's seen me throw up, who's known me over half my life, who's seen a lot of versions of me other people haven't, so it was okay.

And then I wounded up my errands at FedEx Office, printing $18.99 worth of very valuable papers. I sent my photo to an editor to use for art. I mailed those papers and they are one less thing to deal with when I'm on vacation, or "vacation," as it may be. I don't know what's waiting for me all the way across the country, pretty much I like I clearly have no clue what's waiting for me right here. I guess I'll find out.


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