I always get depressed this time of year. My husband (obnoxiously) loves Fall because of pumpkin-flavored everything and his birthday, or whatever.
My friends have been having kids lately. The more I think about; the more all of it marinates in my brain, I can come to only one, undeniable conclusion:
My parents were once young.
We are still staying at my mom’s for another week or two while Tom’s knee further recovers. This week, Mommy and her fiance, “Cutie”, went away on vacation, so obviously we’re throwing raging keggers.
My god, it’s been a rough week. Can you tell, lovers and friends, when I’m really down? I try to keep my blog mostly upbeat, but I think you can tell. At the very least, Tuesday’s post was a downer.
I don’t know if it’s just my birthday or what, but I’ve been kind of depressed this week. I even gave up drinking for fear that it would make me sadder. *Including* passing up a margarita yesterday, which was a first for me. Mmmm margaritas.
But then, after Amanda and I met over burritos and lemonade to plan our comedy empire, we went to improv practice group.
Yesterday, I casually mentioned the summer I spent digging a hole. Here’s the deal.
Saturday was my awesome “surprise” party.
Then came Sunday. The day started out ok. My friend Rachel and I visited my aunt in the hospital, then ate some greasy Friendly’s food.
But then, it was time for Rachel to pack up and leave. Time for me to get to some tasks I’d been putting off. Time to get in wind-down mode in preparation for Monday morning. Monday comes every week, I’ve found.
I don’t know if it was my birthday, or the fact that the party was over, or returning to real life, or just my hangover, but I spent most of Sunday afternoon napping and crying about what I’m doing with my life.
I still haven’t figured it out. Has anyone? Probably.
Anyway, I’m sad that my 20s are over, but I have a lot to look forward to, so I might just rock my 30s.
Leave me some… moral support?
Once upon a time, I was an accountant. It was fun for a while, then not so much.
Last night I went to a happy hour hosted by my old firm for “alumni”. Yes, my firm considers people that quit to be alumni. It’s really kind of genius. Once you’re one of them, you can never really leave. Is this what Hotel California’s about?
Anyway, I saw a couple of my old coworkers, listened to a motivational speech by Gold Medal diver David Boudia (for some reason), and was slightly reminded of all the B.S. that goes along with working for a big firm.
I’ve spent a lot of time in hospitals during the last week.
My aunt had surgery on Thursday, my mom on Friday, and my husband today. I’m drafting this in the waiting room as they’re working with him on using his crutches. I’ve found that I’m surprisingly efficient in waiting rooms.
Friday was the craziest day for me. I was up at 5 AM to drive my mom, I spent the afternoon/evening helping move my aunt from the hospital to ortho rehab, and I ended the day with a 10 PM pre-production meeting in Brooklyn.
You know, hospitals are kind of a bummer. And you have to watch out for germs. But I feel good. It’s nice to spend a day or two out of my week not being completely wrapped up in my own stuff.
And most importantly, my family is in various stages of recovery and doing well.
Tom and I are staying at my mom’s for the next month so he can recover in the downstairs bedroom. You can expect updates on that and, I’m guessing, Tom’s increased crankiness after not working for a couple weeks.
Leave us some love!
Some days it takes all I have to get out of bed in the morning.
In a deviation from standard procedure, I’m postponing my Project Optimism post until tomorrow. For reasons that will now become apparent.
Yesterday, Tom and I watched Annie Hall for the first time. I know, I’m a comedy writer in New York and I should have seen it long ago. Mistake now corrected.