In theory, taking time off from work – not for any particular reason other than the fact that you have to use it or lose it – to spend mornings sleeping late, afternoons writing at the coffeehouse across the street and late nights cruising the dating apps for a hookup sounds like something ideal. In reality – like most things in life – it's a little different. Not bad at all, just not what you envision in those final working days leading up to the staycation when all you can think about is everything you're going to do with the time.
But here I am, a Monday night at North Town because this is where I come to pop in my earbuds and write. And what have I accomplished with this full week of days away from deadlines?
A late start on Friday followed by some intense shopping with Brennan where I managed not to find anything I was looking for in the way of seventies couture, but he managed to find an armful of cheap and attractive selections to add to his fall wardrobe, along with a stack of pretty good titles at one of the local Goodwill. The night was salvaged when I made some last-ditch efforts at Walmart and Walgreens and found exactly what I was seeking to complete the look of a masquerade party guest at that house Tom Cruise infiltrates in the middle of Kubrick's final film.
Another late start on Saturday followed by another failed shopping excursion for the blue iris I wanted for the 3:30 p.m. photo shoot scheduled with Jake to round out the last selection in the Halloween series I spent most of the month working to complete. That was followed by a trip to the Yakima Valley Libraries book sale from which I walked with all the trash I need to carry me into the cold winter months ahead (a little Jackie Collins, Harold Robbins and Judith Krantz – along with one of Wally Lamb's books I haven't read, but mostly just so I wouldn't feel like a total waste of brain potential for only selecting junk food for my mind).
I psyched myself up for the Studio 54 party at The Seasons until it was time to shave my balls and scour my skin just in case the night ended on a lucky note – it didn't – and then I walked my fully decked out ass over to the spot only to find that it failed my expectations and was filled with an assortment of folks I didn't know. With every intention of returning later (and the hope the situation would drastically return in time for my return), I left to meet up with Shawn and Molly at a party in Selah – where, incidentally, I knew several people and had a good time.
But instead of returning to disco dancing – and because I'd mildly injured my left foot/heel/ankle at some point in the night – I just went home. It was still early, and Molly – as she often does – inspired me to write a little so I figured I'd salvage what night remained by pounding out a load of words on my keyboard for a while. Instead of writing – or even reading any of the Andy Cohen book I keep thinking I can't wait to get back to – I picked up a few episodes of "My Favorite Murder," hung a thick, dark blanket over the window, and decided to sleep late another day. And all this time, the notion swam through my head of this great conversation I'd had with Molly last week where we discussed our lists of the men in our lives and I reflected peacefully on the fact that I'd loved each of mine – even if only for a very brief time – and I thought the notion would make a fine trajectory on my blog for a while. But even as I sit here at North Town on a Monday night and the next two days still free from work and deadlines, I'm not sure whether I'll actually follow through on that list of the many men from my own life. Maybe, though.
Where was I? Sunday? I slept late again and hung out a little with Brennan. We ran into two chicks we know from the program and hung out with them a while to talk about recovery and relapse and all the things on our minds that we don't always acknowledge or talk about in meetings. And then I completed a little more work on my fourth step, went to a meeting and came home for another night on the podcasts.
Another day of sleeping late again today. But Brennan drove to Seattle and all the normal people worked today, so I went to the library to focus – which worked – and I came home to call my sponsor and watch "The September Issue." I did manage to pop off a few work-related emails on the podcast idea Kaitlin and I are playing around with and the project I'm wanting to put together for the coming family holidays. I dressed Mary Louise with a pink scarf and took her for a walk and then walked across the cold and windy street in downtown Yakima to my favorite spot in town outside of my apartment to write.
So far, so good.
But what about the story (stories, really) of the men in my life? All the loves that should have been or could have been or would have been? I wonder if that's worth exploring here.
It's not like I have so many readers that I'm likely to raise any eyebrows. But who knows.
I'll see what happens next.
Writing's always good. No matter how shitty the product may be at any given time.
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