Sometimes days can turn around.
I woke up this morning just wanting to stay in bed. Even the smallish tasks I had to do today - the laundry, the grocery, six hours of data entry - seemed unbearable.
So I got up, took an aspirin, ate some food, and got back in bed. I finished a book (and I have since updated the book page accordingly) and then felt semi-ready to face the day.
By then it was already noonish, so I decided to move quickly. I gathered up the laundry, sorted it by color. Headed to the laundromat around the corner, thinking about how I'd like to be able to write a novel one day, even if I don't have the discipline or the talent. So much crap is published, why couldn't some of my crap be as well? I don't care about the money, just the thrill of seeing something I wrote wrapped up in a respectable-ish cover. I suppose I should write something longer than 15 pages, in that case...
Rounded the corner into the laundromat and stepped in the door. Four people already in line for the next available washer; that'll teach you not to go to the laundromat on Saturday afternoons. The bum in the corner can't figure out how to open his machine, and he smells so bad nobody dares go near him to lend a hand. As he bends down to grab his laundry bag, he reveals his ass crack, which is disturbingly filled with his own shit. I guess that explains the smell.
Vetoing the idea of waiting around in the laundromat, I head for the grocery. In, out, I buy what I need with my massive laundry bag slung over my shoulder the whole while. I pick up some ridiculous cookie things that I need to stop eating soon. I decided I will stop as soon as my period comes, which seems like a reasonable and responsible limit. Then the cookies will officially join The Banned List, alongside such delicacies as Nutella and Mikado cookies.
Back home, I do four hours of data entry before I decide I'm going insane. Phone calls from friends interrupt me, and I'm happy to have them there. Invitations to several events make me feel loved; just a few months ago I remember feeling that I didn't have enough friends in Paris. I smile at the thought of how much things have changed since then. I cook dinner (tacos, nothing spectacular) while listening to Nat King Cole's Spanish albums. Once we sit down to eat, The Boy eats five tacos. He loves them, and even clears the dinner plates after the meal as a sign of his appreciation. We split some wine with dinner, and finish off the bottle as we sit and catch up on things on the couch before he says his typical, "Ok, I gotta work." Tonight, however, I'm fine with it. I want quiet time with my projects and my music.
I update my flicks page while listening to hip hop from my high school days. Walking back from the grocery today, some guy had been blasting rap from his car. The rhythm changed my steps within milliseconds. I love hip hop, and I still can't put my finger on why. Being overseas, I don't get to develop me hip hop knowledge as much as I would like, so please share if you all have some must-have albums on your hip hop lists that I should know about.
Tomorrow morning I'm getting up early to listen to some Gregorian chants at Notre Dame. It will be the first time I actually go inside the cathedral. Then I'm off to coffee with a friend I haven't seen in awhile before heading to an afternoon movie on the Cambodian genocide with Kathypath. As a special treat to myself, I think I might even go to an early evening flick alone - something sentimental and sappy, to fit my rather pleasant, nostalgic mood right now.
At least when I come down from these clouds, I'll have a record of it online. I'm glad I spent the night at home: I got some work done, hung out with The Boy in a way we haven't been able to for awhile, and had some alone time with my thoughts. I wish every day felt this good. There's a lot of pleasure to be had in many small things.