May 11th, 1996
Tonight I ate at Dojos on St. Mark’s and attended a fashion show where the Dewar’s Scotch flowed for free. This is the type of event that always sounds cooler than it really is. I had a headache and craved frozen yogurt the whole time.
Today I spring cleaned. Sucked the dust from every crevice, ripped down the plastic wrap window insulation, saw the rug at the bottom of my closet for the first time since I moved in. Then I ran 4 1/2 miles in Prospect Park.
I’ve had a combination of exhiliaration and exhaustion all day. I think the exhaustion is thinly masked boredom. As much as I gripe about no free weekends, I can only take about 2 hours or so of unstructured time before I get anxious.
Lisa shared a funny anecdote: She’s standing on the corner waiting for the flash of the walk signal. A little girl is tugging on her mother and repeatedly asking, “Who’s that? Who’s that? Who’s that?” and pointing to a woman down the block. The mother says, “That’s Keisha, honey.” Then she turns to Lisa and says, “She always has to know who everyone is. So I just started making up names.”
I thought that was funny.
Tonight I ordered an Amstel Light. My three female dining companions also ordered Amstel Lights after I did. I wonder what they would have ordered if I had ordered water or tequila shots.
