check your sugarcoat at the door


27
March 1, 2012, 12:09 am
Filed under: daily, frenz, girly

I found another bit of time, hiding behind the desk, near the mousetrap.

I had a birthday recently. It came and went quickly without leaving any scars and no one went to jail in the midst of it. It was just as I wanted. There were grand plans (aren’t there always grand plans) for a party themed by the musicians we know and love that have all died at the age of twenty-seven and there would even be a tattoo artist setting up shop in my dining room to ink up all my hooligan friends. Within two or three weeks of the party, I simply couldn’t fathom it occuring. I couldn’t have company over, I couldn’t prepare for people, I couldn’t make food or clear off surfaces on which to serve it, I couldn’t force myself to be excited or happy and what in the hell kind of party should be hosted by someone who can’t even muster pretend glee over her own celebration? Ew. I cancelled it. 

On my actual birthday, a Monday, Josh asked that “his ladies” be ready to go by 6:30 to make a reservation for three at a teppan restaurant where we ate enough fried rice to satiate our appetites until next February. Mm.

The following weekend I was treated to drinks and loud, animated conversation with Ree and Sue at a few different bars around their neighborhood. It’d been far too long since I’d spent some time with just the girls, all acting a fool and not giving any shits about it. If this doesn’t happen with regularity, I’ll bottle up the unspent energy and end up cheering and shout-singing Journey in the office.

Twenty-seven is fitting alright. It goes to bed a little earlier, drinks a little less and quite likes wide open weekends during which there is lots of time for staying home and reading books, thank you very much.

By thirty, I intend to have mastered quilting which I’d do from a comfortable chair, wearing sensible shoes.

-CJ

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