This time of year, if you live where I live, you may start to go a little haywire. The reason? THERE IS NO SUN WHERE I LIVE. It rains. All day. Every day. Often with winds that make the rain come down sideways into your face. And you have the knowledge that the sun will not peek out again until March, if you are very, very lucky. If you are not lucky, then maybe you’ll see the sun in April, or May. You start to feel soggy, like you will never be warm or dry again. You don’t want to leave your house. You don’t want to get out of your cozy jam-jams and slippers. You start to do crazy things like watch Dance Wars MORE THAN ONCE on your Tivo. What seemed like a delightfully snuggly season back in November now seems like a mushy bowl of Corn Flakes. YOUR LIFE SEEMS LIKE A MUSHY BOWL OF CORNFLAKES.
When I was a kid, I went swimming at the local pool. I was a skinny little kid, ’tis true. There’s no denying it. I remember this one day I got out of the pool dripping wet and this twerpy little dickwad named Matty laughed, pointed at me, and said “damn! You look like a drowned rat!” I felt like a drowned rat when he said that. Cold, shivering, hair flattened.
This weather makes me feel like Matty is sitting right on my shoulder.
So Friday. I was determined to turn things around on Friday. I was going to go out in that rain and do something social. In your FACE, February! I will not be a prisoner of my pajamas because of the likes of you! But the month of February wanted to kick me in the bawls. Here’s how it went.
1. Blah blah worky worky forgot to eat lunch.
2. Blah blah worky worky staying late and I can’t say more because I would like to remain undooced.
3. Due to the staying late, I missed my bus to take me to my dinner date with a bunch of pals. Food? Who needs food?
4. I make it home and Nordic Boy whips me up something to eat. The pull of the pajamas is STRONG, people. I am home. I am warm. I am somewhat dry. But I rally. IN YOUR FACE, FEBRUARY.
5. I change my outfit (one way to cheer myself up is to have a wardrobe change. It works for me) and head out to a party. Nordic Boy, sensing some tragic foreshadowing I think, offers to drive me.
6. I am dropped off at the block where my friends’ condo is. I have never been to this building before. The intercom thingy? Not working. So I stand outside (rain rain rain, cold cold cold) and wait for someone to come out of the building so I can get in. Fifteen minutes. It seems longer.
7. I take the elevator up to the 3rd floor and go to the address I was given, which is 311. I knock. Ready to party! IN YOUR FACE, FEBRUARY.
8. A very timid looking lady, who I have never seen before opens the door. “Yes?” is what she says to me. I realize that this ain’t the right place. This lady is clearly not anywhere near a party. I apologize and go back to the lobby. I do not fail to notice that this lady is in her pajamas.
9. I call Nordic Boy and ask him to look at my party invite to be sure of the address. He does. I am sure. Who was pajama lady then?
10. I ask the attendant in the lobby of the building if he can help me. He can’t. Plus, he is rude.
11. I go back out to the intercom. I scroll through the names and find my friend’s name. So yes, she definitely lives here. I dial the number. Still not working.
12. Rain rain rain. My hair, she is flattened. My toes, they be cold.
13. I call Nordic Boy. He drives back to help me. I feel the pathetic drowned rat feeling. Damn you Matty.
14. We give up. I go home. My sweet friend Hopscotch calls to check on me from the party. I can’t bring myself to go out and try again, even though I miss my friends who I haven’t seen in FOREVER.
15. I get in my pajamas. I watch bad tv. I go to bed before 10pm.
16. February says to me: IN YOUR FACE, Librarian Girl.