My Weekend, Good And Bad

Let’s see how my weekend stacked up compared to my terrible horrible no-good very bad day I was having on Friday, shall we? I will give an up-or-down good-or-bad assessment of each of its aspects, for increased ease of…your being able to…uh, see how my weekend was. Lucky, lucky you!

CDs everyone sent me: Very sweet. We’ll call this good.

The weather yesterday: windy, rainy, cloudy, cold. Just like EVERY OTHER DAY. Bad. You see how this works.

The new milk I got for my tea: non-lumpy and with extra calcium. Good.

Ginger nuts, dipped in said non-lumpy tea: Yummy, as long as you don’t dip too long because then it turns to mush at the bottom of your mug and that’s gross. Apparently most people find this out at about age five, a mere twenty-six years before me. Very good indeed

Laptop: Now magically works. Turns out it really was because I didn’t have it plugged in. Verdict: Kind of goodbecause I didn’t have to go to the Mac store), kind of bad because I’m not very smart).

Trip to Mac Store: Not taken. Thank God. Real, real good.

Packages I received from my mom: arrived, all three of them, full of lovely clothes, most of which did not fit me. I’m not saying I cried. I’m saying I almost cried. Pretty bad. (Although I do like my new jacket).

Shopping trips taken this weekend: miserable. Everything was ugly, nothing fit me, I hated my self and my life and the entire world. Real, real bad.

Fact that yet another one of my friends from the Lodge is leaving Wellington: Makes me realize yet again how close you can get to people you’ve only just met, and that my social life is going to be really weird in February when everyone who’s left leaves. Baaaaaad.

Hours spent in Fidel’s on Saturday afternoon, happily reading a book over a veggie panino and an excellent hot chocolate: three. Super good.

Dinner Saturday night: salmon with ginger-soy reduction sauce (and rice and asparagus, because it is spring here and as we all know, one is requiredby law to consume much asparagus in the spring, preferably sautéed with olive oil and lemon and salt and pepper ), courtesy of Deirdre and Nahum. This was preceded by a very enjoyable trip to Moore Wilson which filled my yuppie heart with much delight, especially when I finally found some really yummy chevre to slather all over some yummy Pandoro Panetteria bread. Super extra good.

My first Guy Fawkes: very cold, but very fun as it involved sitting on a boathouse roof at Oriental Parade and also sparklers. I found the big-boom-crash fireworks strangely meditative. Quite good.

After Guy Fawkes: Wellington was clogged with the most traffic I have ever seen (i.e. about regular for 3:30 on a Thursday in downtown Seattle) so I went to this funny Welsh pub with my buddies for a while to wait it out. I thought I was being all sly, timing my bus ride home just when I was starting to get a little tired and wanting my bed, getting up and kissing people goodbye when I was still in a good mood. Ha. I waited an hour for that bus, and when it finally did come? There were so many people (they’d waited an hour, you see) trying to get on that I was pretty much stuck up against some weird chicken-wire fencing that was near the bus stop and I couldn’t get on and go home. And the night bus wasn’t for another two hours. Thankfully my indefatigable friends were still at the Welsh pub and the glass of wine I’d managed to drink almost a third of was still there so I had somewhere to hang out, and I got to tell a stupid story about when I went to Spanksgiving all those years ago. And then of course when it was finally time for the night bus, it was late. Again. I did have a very funny chat with a girl about my age concerning the antics of the drunken seventeen-year olds with whom we were sharing the bus shelter, so that was okay, but still. I just really wanted to go home, man. All things considered, not that great.

Canker sore: Getting better, thereby allowing me to eat a whole bunch of pineapple for lunch today. Good.

Bulged disk: much better, thanks, although I still feel like I’m eight hundred years old for allowing my disk to bulge like that. Now I am just back to the regular swayback office chair owieness. Good. I guess. At least I’ll be able to do my tribal thing this week.

Curled up with a really funny book in my pink bed while the wind screams outside, while eating dark chocolate and drinking tea and listening to the new Cardigans CD: Fantastic.

Okay, so if we divide by three and then carry the one and then take the percentage…sorry, this’ll just take a minute, I’m not very good at math…well, hey! Looks like I came out just about even!