Last night was fantastic.
And by fantastic, you know I really mean something completely different.
Molly and I have both been going through shit weeks, her a little moreso than me because it involves her job. But everything yesterday—meaning that fantastic club I’m affiliated with—got me to crack and we just sat on the futon for a few minutes, teary-eyed and pissed off.
Then when she went to the neighbors, I cried for an hour on the phone to Nick. Who listened, kept me to attempt staying positive, and the good boyfriend stuff. He went to the French Laundry last night and had delicious food, so it’s enough to live through his food.
Then, who should call, but Floyd. And then I spent another hour crying on the phone as he tried to help me sort out my life plan. Well, it was more he talked a lot about what was going on and I listened because I was exhausted. But it was still nice. Out-of-the-blue, but nice.
And when I wake up, eyes still puffy and spirits still down, all I get in my inbox is an e-mail from our self-agenda secretary talking about Relay for Life (a very good cause, but it’s after our event), and only one message from another dancer about how she hasn’t heard back from the money she needed to get.
This is my bed, I have made it, and I will not let my personal life get in the way of the students’ learning today.
…but this needs to stop.
