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Wednesday, Jan. 28, 2004 | link
This weekend was very whirlwindy. Here, I show you.
Friday night I went on a date. It was rad. I learned a lot. For instance:
Saturday morning I woke up early so I could clean out my car before the parade of potential buyers started up. I brought the vacuum cleaner down to the garage and everything, but since not an outlet was to be found -- and I looked in all the Freddy Krueger nooks and crannies -- I just used my fingers to pick up the biggest pieces of ... hay? body glitter? ... off the floor. Then I removed the odd assortment of Carmex and double-d batteries from the glove box and called it a day.
The first guy to look at the car drove it around and around and asked a bunch of car-nut questions that I didn't even vaguely know the meaning of (Him: "It really throws down nice [or something]!" Me: "Yeah!"), then opted to "think about it." This nice, cute couple showed up next, he works on cars and she's ... Danish -- pretty much ideal Cortina owners because he actually has the room and the penchant for car-tinkering, and she was going to be the primary driver of the car and seemed to appreciate its hyper-cuteness. Anyway, they put a deposit down on the car and yesterday he came by with a cashier's check and drove the car away! THE END!
Saturday afternoon I took the ferry over to Marin to visit with Liz, Ben, their baby Mae, and Liz's EXTREMELY pregnant stomach. The new baby is due any second, and they're having it at home. (On the shopping list given to them by the midwife? a WATERPROOF TARP!) The woman they have lined up to watch Mae when the heavy labor goes down was out of town, so I was on Baby Watch. This meant that if things started to heave, I was in for an insane 24 hours. So the whole time I was there, Liz delighted in trying to freak me the hell out. "You know, I was making pancakes the morning I went into labor with Mae, too." Evany: "Just ... keep those legs crossed."
She also forked over all the truly awesome details of the "jungle" of natural child birth. "How bad was it, getting stitched up after all the tearing?" I asked. Liz: "Oh, I didn't even notice it by then."
I think, if you don't even NOTICE someone STITCHING UP YOUR TORN HOLE because whatever came before was so, so much more crazy? Well, that speaks volumes. And put me in a nice, quiet mood.
But, yay, I managed to get back on the ferry Sunday morning without Liz going into labor, and returned to the city just in time to meet Jenn for coffee. Turns out she's one amazing, articulate, and focused 19-year-old, the kind of intelligent, together youth who makes me afraid for my job. I guess all those smart toys, pre-natal vitamins, and listening to Mozart in the womb are really working, because the next generation is way more together than I ever, never, ever was.
Then I raced home to order a pizza for TV night. Jill brought over a chocolate pudding cake, and Caroleen brought some sparkling clear fluids and a scary syrup, and Liz brought a crown-making kit, and we all gorged ourselves on over four hours of Golden Globes and Sex in the City and Arrested Development and Golden Globes.
And ever since then, all I've been doing is sleeping, sleeping, sleeping. Ridiculous, could-this-be-mono sleep. Two-hour naps followed by twelve hours of solid death sleep stretching until 9:30 in the morning. But today, now, I think I'm finally done. My eyes feel open for the first time in over forty-eight hours. And my god, you look fine. Those cords, your ass? Do you mind if I do a rubbing?