Doors

Across the hall, drama I never dreamed of:



A week later, it's still up there.

bah 2

...and perhaps just as bad as all of those things is realizing you're still such a spaz that you actually didn't lose the camera in the cab but you merely - somehow, for some reason - dropped it into your hamper as you walked into your room and, after immediately forgetting that you - again, for some unknown reason - put it there, combed the apartment in the usual places - bag, dresser, bed, table - and upon finding nothing after several laps around the house, decided your camera was lost. you then filed a report with the TLC. then you proclaimed your clumsiness on the World Wide Web. And then, after digging through your hamper (again; what??) to sort for laundry day came upon the prized object had to retract that earlier statement with a sheepish "false alarm; just me being a spaz. again."

bah.

but at least i have my camera.

bah

...even more annoying than having left your beloved digital camera with lots of great new pics in a cab is having done so while (relatively) sober and (perhaps) mere seconds after stopping the cab because you realized that you were forgetting your bright yellow umbrella.

bah.

You Can Take it on the Chin, Call a Cab, and Begin to Recover on Your 14 Karat Yacht

It's occurred to me lately, as 2005 waned and I found myself scraping my money together at the end of the month - again - that I could really stand to save a little more dough. My entire life, I've been a saver, scrimper, money making schemer (there was even an EBay selling phase); I don't go to the spa, the salon, fancy clubs, fancy restaurants, do drugs or buy fancy things so to find myself scratching my head and wondering where my money has gone felt a little ... weird. I mean, I get my hair cut in Chinatown for $14 a pop. I practically live in dollar stores. My favorite jacket cost me $20. I play harmonica in the subways - because I'm exceptionally gifted, one session alone pays for my one meal a day (the $2.95 Recession Special at Gray's Papaya). Frostbite has made me immune to the cold that blasts through my threadbare coat, thus eliminating the need for one that is new and warm. I feed Heifer once a week. The recent lack of funds really shouldn't have surprised me, though - after all, I did take three vacations and participate in one wedding in the past 6 months. Three plane tickets, a Maid of Honor dress, a wedding gift, accomodations at the wedding site, bus tickets to Maryland to help with wedding preparation, accessories for the Maid of Honor dress ... it all added up pretty handily. Add to that the fact that I spend half of my monthly paycheck on rent.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining, nor am I asking for pity. I (stubbornly and stupidly) choose to live in this (amazing) apartment, I chose to go on my (great) recent trips and I was thrilled when Buttercry asked me to be her Maid of Honor. I'm not embarrassed to mention this on the ol' Web, either, because it is my firm resolution to get back on track - and soon. I look at it as just another "challenge" to fill my days. It could even be fun - looking back, I've noticed that the times in my life that I was most proud of myself was when I was scrimping because I was creative and resourceful. Necessity is, after all, the mother of invention. Or at least the muse. Oh, heck, let's go with "muse" - it's juicier. So far, things are going swimmingly - I have always been good at Spartan living, except when I get it into my head that I have to visit my family in Guatemala or take myself on a far away getaway. So I just won't think about tamales or volcanos or my grandmother's huge annual family birthday party planned for next month. No tamales por Olivia. I am rediscovering the joy of cooking for myself, as well as the odd pleasure in window shopping. For years, I bragged to my friends "If I read the menu, I don't really need to eat". It was almost always true. But what started this odd change when I began to actually buy the candy-colored cupcakes in the store window? My best guess is that I was promoted and got a pay raise - a buddy warned me that it only seemed like a lot more money and that I shouldn't let myself go nuts thinking that I suddenly had a lot more to spend. What do you know - he was right.

So we're getting back on track. Inspired by another buddy, I sat down for the coin rolling session I've been meaning to have for years. He described the activity as "tedious", but I actually found it kinda therapeutic, watching the coins pile up, even as I berated myself for being such a pig as to let things accumulate in my apartment. The first coin rolling session yielded $49. The second, once I finish, will yield $34. That's $83 lying around my place in change - amazing. Today, I lugged my first batch of coins to the bank and deposited them. On my living room floor, I've sectioned off the books I'm going to sell at The Strand tomorrow. This evening, as I rooted around in my refrigerator for something to drink and found nothing beyond a few bottles of soda long gone flat (PIG), my eyes spied a bottle of Margarita mix I bought at Odd Job for $2.99 perhaps a year ago, maybe even more. Eight o'clock margaritas - what fun! If only I had tequila. And ice that wasn't from cloudy tap water. Thirsty, I turned an idea over in my mind - could I drink possibly stale Margarita mix on its own? Did Margarita mix go bad? What was even in it? I picked up the chilled bottle and scanned the list - it looked like your basic soda or sugar-packed fruit juice, aside from the "1% Alcohol Content". What harm could it do?, I figured. I opened up the bottle and dribbled a thimble's worth into a glass. It tasted like a slightly more tart lemonade, with a sharper aftertaste. All in all, not too bad. I poured myself a full glass and satisfiedly sipped it with my linguine in olive oil. Tomorrow: try chugging it to see if I can get a cheap buzz without having to go to a bar.

Ah, it's going to be a fun year.

A Day Late

a la fin du journee

steak au poivre, mussels in a big blue pot, my erik's opera ... conversations about life and art and politics so animated that random englishmen ask to join in ... teeny tiny crumbling montreuil sur mer with its pre-medieval ramparts so small the town can be crossed in minutes ... madame renard (in france she is hunted with only her cunning to protect her) who gives me corn flakes/croissant avec confiture/suc d'orange for breakfast and says my french is very good ... ideas for short stories springing to mind ... train times to arras and paris for tomorrow en suite i will board the night train to rome ...

but what the @?#! is this soreness in my throat???????

To Do Before Leaving for Europe

the lists I typed up at the beginning of the week, designed to create an organized going-away so that I wouldn't be scrambling before my flight to Europe which departs at 8:15 PM on December 4th. As of the wee hours of 12/4, they stand:

To Pick Up:

• Batteries (two packs)
• Travel toothpaste (Tom's of Maine)
• long underwear (have enough clothes to layer)
• sneakers
• notebook
• new pepper spray (KMart?)
• offerings for the RBC, the Nonna and the Zio (for the latter, New York stuff from Chinatown?)

To Do: (please notice the glaring Have Not Yet Dones in red)

• Buy France 'n Italy Eurorail Pass
• Make hostel reservations
• Listen to more French CDs
• Arrange for Heifer's care (Jean/Frank and Diego)
• Pack
• Wash comforter/laundry
• Clean room
• Pay bills/rent
• Deposit money
• print out e-tickets, hostel confirmation, directions to the RBC's apartment
• Call family members in Italy
• Set aside important documents
• write "out of country" mass e-mail (pecking at it right now)
• remind the L that i'll be away
• Refill prescriptions
• Send "out of country" mass e-mail (in a minute, in a minute....)
• Renew library materials
• Turn in office expense form
• *Decide where the heck to go*