2001-06-27 - 6:05 p.m.
Tomorrow is it. Vacation starts at 5pm. Maybe a little earlier. I'm excited - kind of. More stressed out (get cash, exchange for lira, get books for plane, etc etc) and, surprising me, a little nervous. I suppose your first vacation with someone is always a big deal - more so when you have a boatload of intimacy issues. I know it will be fine, it will be great, actually. But I still feel that niggling nervousness at the back of my mind. I dropped off my dry cleaning, got a manicure and pedicure, and ran out this afternoon to get my hair highlighted. (but not cut - Tamara refused. "Don't cut it - it looks good like that!") I wrote once before that she always manages to put her current life drama into my finished haircut. And today, no haircut. I learned alot about her today, actually. Good things, big things. And one funny thing - this weekend, on Coney Island, is the Mermaid Parade. Mermaid Parade. Imagine? I'm sorry I can't go - she had some huge black wig that she was festooning with blue metallic strings, to look like glittery seaweed. She tried it on, and I shrieked, literally. It looks fabulous - kind of I Dream of Jeannie big, and she's beautiful - I hope I get to see some pictures.Other than that, same old same old. My boss is almost through torturing me, although she has added another trip to my August calender. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I HATE travelling for business. I absolutely hate it. And it's getting worse, not better. I must be a glutton for punishment, because I seem to always have a travelling job. I have come to the disturbing realization that I have kept this job purely for the money. I want to stay in the Village, I don't want a roommate, and I have big rent to pay. But I don't like the stripped down reality of that. I stay here for the money. But I'm going on vacation, and I'll deal with it when I get back. I have no shortage of avoidance tendencies, that's for sure.
So I'm going to go home to my sparkling clean apartment (love you, Raoul) and start to pack, before I'm off to give a tour of my neighborhood to a friend of a friend, studying at NYU for the summer. I'll have to work in my errands, too; "And, this is the laundromat, and this is the bank, and this is the bookstore...."
Oh, and if you're reading this? Sign the guestbook, will you? Don't make me beg.
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last five entries:
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