Every morning I arise from my slumber to seize the day and think– this will be the day I get my life together.  This will be the day I acknowledge a bottle of wine and buttered noodles doesn’t constitute dinner.  This will be the day that I decide green beans and carrots and healthy things are more delicious than french fries.  And the day I reacquaint myself with both the gym and exercise*.  This will be the day!

And then I house a 10″ pizza all by my lonesome.  And it’s good.  And think– tomorrow.  Tomorrow will be the day!  Tomorrow will be the day I get my shit together.  And then Natalie e-mails me about our happy hour plans.  Damnit.


Louisa got into DC late Thursday night– we promptly began drinking and celebrating our togetherness, which continued after last call on my front porch.  A couple of beers and a whole box of goldfish crackers into the early morning, I realized our bus to NYC was leaving in 5 hours and I had yet to pack.  I naturally assumed we were doomed.

But we were not!  Louisa and I, being the grown-ups that we now appear to be, not only made it to the bus on time, but with bottled water, coffee, strawberry smoothies and garlic bagels.  We high-fived, shoveled the food and liquids into our mouths and went back to sleep.

Our NYC vacation was a whole lot of eating, a whole lot of drinking and a whole lot of getting lost.  Adulthood can be measured in this regard by two distinct facts:

1.  After a solid Friday night of drinking and dancing, we spent the majority of Saturday hungover and lost in Brooklyn.  After a delicious dinner that evening, complete with a cocktail and bottle of wine, we took ourselves back to the hotel to watch TV.  We knew we could have powered through that long-lasting hangover and get to gettin’, yet we also knew that a hungover-free ride back to DC Sunday morning would be very nice.  BAM!  We’re adults.

2.  We now order the expensive bottle of wine.


Note:  There was a 30 minute time lag between when I started this post and when I attempted to complete it.  The acquisition of lunch was included in that brief break.  As a result of that lunch, the update is as follows–I just ate a grip** of brownies.

*You’d be amazed at how much more fun it is to go to the gym when your sole goals is sitting in the hot tube.

**A measurable unit that means “a lot”.  Which I just had to explain to Josephina.  She responded, “I just imagine you gripping the sides of a brownie pan and pouring the contents into your mouth.”  Not a bad idea, sister.

1 Comment

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One response to “NYC

  1. I thought being adult means you CAN do buttered noodles and wine for dinner. Am I doing it wrong?

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