You Could Even Say I'm on a Tear

Last night, following Sunday's all-night-long staring-at-the-ceiling-a-thon and extra long work day, I slept for 11 hours straight. ELEVEN. I only woke up once, to text M good night, and then I passed out again like a normal person would. I didn't even take medication! And this morning, it was raining and my dumb ass decided to wear four inch heels to work. (For many stylish and strong-calfed New Yorkers, that wouldn't be a big deal, but this was only my third time wearing heels to work in two years. I love them, but being 6'1" with heels on makes me feel huge.) See, I woke up this morning and I was feeling spicy!

Here is a picture of me sweating.

So, elevated and damp, I'm standing on the subway platform, and I'm sweating a little because the air is like a Snuggie the color of humid (you know, soft purplish grey). I'm perfectly matte, even chalky, in dry 90 degree heat, but throw a little humidity in the mix and I immediately resemble an old man after a slow-pitch softball game. It's great for dates. I always, always break a sweat on the way to work, ruining everything. This usually bothers me, but today I'm fine. I'm waiting for the F among the usual MTA clientele: triple-stroller mamas, shifty-eyed overweight teenagers, thugs in UPS uniforms, etc., and I realize that I am actually enjoying myself. I sort of like this umbrella I'm holding, I'm looking forward to seeing my work pals, and I don't even care that a loud-mouthed pack of school-skipping bros just cut in front of me. What. Why! And then it hits me: this is how I might feel almost every day if I slept regularly. What a freaking difference.

My whole day was the good kind, where you know what to say in every situation without consulting the archives. Let me explain: you know how in the summer, most TV channels just play reruns? Well, on a day following a sleepless night, I find that in order to carry on normal conversations with coworkers, I have to dip into my archive of previous discussions and reuse old lines that seem like they might fit into the current one. Sometimes, this doesn't work at all, and I get the old smile-nod-and-walk-away. But usually, I can eek by on super tired days playing my reruns while my actual self hunkers down in the fetal position inside my body and waits for it to be over.

Today, though. Man, today felt really good. I was super on, like I like to be.

On Saturday I cooked a huge Thanksgiving dinner for six friends (including little sister in town from afar) and it was awesome until I got too substance-abused to correctly cook my pies, and we ate super underdone pumpkin and crunchy as hell apple! Maybe I will post about that next time.