Successes & Failures of Saturday

Success: Waking up at 6:30 on a Saturday to read and exercise.
Failure: Did a half-aced job of a Jillian Michaels work-out like twenty minutes before I had to run out the door because I spent the previous two hours answering e-mails. And not reading.
Success: Feeling positive about the play call-back I went to this AM.
Failure: If I get cast, my life will implode. I do not have time for this ish.
Success: Doing my laundry this afternoon.
Failure: Not grading a single paper all afternoon.
Success: Grocery shopping supes efficiently, so I can finish all my new play edits tonight.
Failure: Stopping in at a rando bakery to snoop/waste time.
Success: Lady gives me a free cream puff. And it's legit. Plus, still plenty of time to do my work.
Failure: Accepting dinner invite from Ro.
Success: A delightful meal of good conversation, glass noodles, and Thai iced tea.
Failure: I have dinner plans with Pinto for later. Boop.
Success: Very joy-filled day.
Failure: Do I need to say this again? I have done zero reading, writing, or grading for the entirety of today. Good job, me.
Success: I have three hours before I head out again.
Failure: I'm writing on my blog. So.

Nausea, Potatoes, Love

Wednesday night I went out with Blue Eyes and Boulder to our usual post-class haunt. I had had a headache at the end of class and knew I needed to eat. Pretty much as soon as I dismounted from my bike and walked up to their misted table, I wanted to vom. I needed food, and I needed it now. Extreme nausea extremely fast. I tried to be a decent human being but my cement mixing stomach was screaming, and I had to go sit in the bathroom for ten minutes because it was cool and I could avoid conversation (which was great conversation, but it made me open my mouth, which brought me closer to throwing up out of it).

The waitress did something I love waitresses to do--bring out appetizers (if that's all you order) with other people's food and not their salad. BUT NOT TONIGHT, LADY. I NEED THOSE POTATO SKINS IN MY BODY. I know it's silly in hindsight, but I did think I was going to implode, so I lost all sense of social grace and put my head on the table. I held my temple. I stripped my mask of "I'm okay" and let my peers see what was happening: my painful death. I whined a little. Blue Eyes looked concerned, and it's probably the first time I've ever seen what he's like as a father. "Oh no! This tomato is on my fork, but it's headed to your mouth!" Boulder airplaned a bite of salad to me. I scowled. I wanted a friendly potato--not an acidic demon plant. He did not act offended. He understood.

Finally my food came. I stripped the skins of their cheese and painfully ate one. My boys kept chipper but watchful of me, the island across the table whimpering as I chewed up two skins and boxed the rest. Blue Eyes paid for my meal, and Boulder offered to drive me. I said that wasn't necessary. He said he'd walk my bike back to my condo. I genuinely was feeling a little better, so I rode back alone. So grateful. I was supposed to go out with Pinto at 8. I cancelled via text like a jerk, but he responded, "Should I bring some soup and a cheesy DVD?"

I guess, what I mean is, people are really good, and we are cared for.

Also, that's how I ended up going to bed at 9 PM and thus waking up at 4 AM on Thursday.