Friday in Zombieland. 02/11/05
Everyone's spacey today. Yesterday too. Forgetful, half-awake, mind not on work or driving or whatever one should be concentrating on.
The manager here got us all some Lost World energy drinks. It's probably the only thing keeping us functional at the moment. I could so pass out right now.
This morning I walked to work, as I do on 4 out of 5 workdays, and at about 8:30 a.m. it just felt so very much like 5 a.m. The sky all pale pearl-grey, the silence, the chilly air, the scent of light rain and damp earth and green growing things. I kept expecting to see the sunrise on the horizon, hear roosters crowing. It felt like a daydream, or a movie.
Last night we had pizza to celebrate buying the boat, which should be finalized today. Perhaps we can go sailing sometime this weekend. How do I feel about the whole boat-purchase-thing now? Like it's the most impetuous, unwise, yet thrilling and life-changing decision that he and I have made since deciding to move in together. It may be exactly what we need, or it could be a complete disaster.
I wish people didn't mark the momentous occasions in life with eating and drinking quite so much. The way people see food as central to any party, a reward, delightful indulgence -- when it's hard enough for me to not be addicted to it. I try so hard to say, "Food is nourishment. Energy. Not a glorious prize, not evil either, just basic sustenance, dammit," and get into that mindset, but have it all thrown back in my face when I get food as presents, or feel obligated to eat because I'd be treated as a spoilsport for declining to stuff myself in celebration.
Tonight could be fun. Exploring our new boat? Drinking wine? Walking in the light of the new moon? I am determined to enjoy myself whatever happens.
