Or the account of my decline into barbarism (and all of the lovely, mad people who helped me do it).

Monday, February 8, 2010

Milkshakes, A Little Too Sweet

Saturday night: Syd and I sip peanut butter banana milkshakes and Cokes from the drive-thru. I hit a raccoon with the Land Rover on the way to the apartment. All weekend I feel the lingering sadness of the previous night's meltdown. As a result, I stay in with Syd, Jordan, and Michelle. Lael arrives at our doorstep with a bottle of wine and demands we fix her Easy Mac. We sit on the floor as I dangle pretty harlequin lingerie from my fingers.

Look, look! La Perla....blah, blah, Valentine's Day!

I didn't expect to see Daniel, but Lael calls him and he heads over after bar-hopping with his friends. I sit on his lap and laugh, make him spend the night. We're up until 3 AM.

Sunday: He comes over again and I write a paper on Keats and cry when he asks me what's wrong. We sit there for awhile, his hands on my thighs as I grip a tissue and catch tears in my hands.

"I don't know what's wrong. Everything...I can't put my finger on it. I'm just sad." I say.

We talk. And I hold his hand when I walk him to the door.

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