It's All Downhill from There
I sang for an ordination on Saturday. It wasn't particularly stimulating, but I do enjoy ensemble singing, see? And I really love to sing psalms. So Saturday morning was good. Then I accidentally had lunch with the out-of-town best friend of my HeartThrob. He's fun and amusing and successful and driven and had a lot to say about HeartThrob's recent proclivity for knee-walkin' drunkenness. Now, I enjoy a good time and have been known to, say, barf in the bushes at church after a particularly hard-drinking night, but, after a certain age (about 27), sloppy drunk is no longer anything but sad. To be falling-down drunk at 34 is to court group expressions of combined pity and disgust. I acknowledge that such a state is, to an extent, a recognized mark of creative angsty genius, but it is not the only such mark, and if that sort of professional characterization is what's at stake here, I'd prefer he chose something else.I'll tolerate other drug use and I'm willing to consider dealing with other drug abuse, but I don't see living with a slurring, vomiting, stinking, stumbling drunk in my future.
Saturday evening, GothGirl and I abused some substances ourselves, though not enough even to disable me from driving home responsibly. We fully proved, though, that I do make excellent margaritas, particularly when we have access to that marvelous little ice from Sonic. Henceforth, I think I might just run by Sonic for ice any time I'm making margaritas. We had a most excellent time, laughed ourselves stupid, and played childhood card games. It was a great evening.
Things have headed downhill pretty much since. I can't shake this sour mood.
In an hour or so, I'm meeting GothGirl (and likely some others, which would be nice since I've lost my momentum with that group) for dollar pint night and to hear HeartThrob's band play. It COULD be tons of fun, but I'm tired and mopey and quiet. It would be so nice for tonight to go well, including having an actual conversation with HeartThrob, but to think thus is only to set me up for massive, sobbing, disappointment (again).
The GC I wanted came back with a very reasonable bid, and I thought he was fantastic, except that this morning, when he gave me the bid, he said that he'd taken another big job and wouldn't be available until November. That's a long time to own an empty house.
I'm wearing my cowboy boots tonight, for the first time since I broke my foot.