Blossom

Three Hendrick's gin and tonics, three B-52 shots, all consumed in two hours without any dancing to be had. Toast time, as in I was toast. (The B-52 is Kahlua, Baileys, and triple sec layered out all nice and neat.) The other night I went to a reading event that among others, featured actress Amber Tamblyn. You know her from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Or um, maybe you don't. Tamblyn was on stage to share some of her poetry -- an upcoming series about child actresses who died in their twenties, think Brittany Murphy -- and she brought up four shots to drink before each piece. Her poems were not long and I wondered what kind of drinking fortitude she had. It was an impressive display.

After my own almost as impressive display, my friend and I went to her apartment down the street and watched the back half of Adventures in Babysitting -- she had it saved on her DVR -- and ate sushi. Then I made the semi-long subway ride home and took two Tylenol and called it quits for the night. My plan to "play by day/evening and work after midnight" will suffer badly if this keeps up. There is just too much to do in New York, too much.

Also, I am gushing money. You can't walk out of the house here without expecting to drop a hundred dollars. I'm going to have to move to an all cash system to limit my spending. And I'm seriously not even doing anything. Just eating and drinking. And I don't even really drink.

For example, today was big box retailer day, and JMZ and I went to Target and IKEA. Making a firm commitment to staying here for longer than a month, I was in the market for a bed. It it were up to me, I'd just sleep on the floor, or the use the couch, or continue air mattressing it, but that's not proper. Thinking way ahead, I had brought sheets with me from San Diego, knowing I would make that big adult purchase of a mattress once I arrived. Plus, guests can't be expected to sleep on the floor right?

Well, after a bit of princess and the pea, and caving to my thriftiness, I am now the proud owner of a twin bed. Yes, you heard me right. I am pushing my middle ages and rocking the twin. There was some thought given to going with a full but the price difference just wasn't worth it. And really, who do I have to make room for? The last time I had to buy a bed was probably ten years ago. Since then I've been gloriously bed-less.

Somehow I rang up $350 at Target and IKEA -- the bed without frame was $89. This is what happens when you decide to stay awhile. I bought cleaning supplies, two lamps, a six dollar light bulb, extra towels, a fluffy blanket, a mini-carpet to put our dirty shoes on when we climb out on the patio to smoke, a 50 count bottle of generic Pepcid AC for all that drinking, extension cords, power strips, a small trash can, detergent, a lint roller (I'm recently incorporating black into my wardrobe), and hangars. I can't believe I bought hangars. But AMR told me he hangs up all his t-shirts to avoid center creasing so I'm gonna have to do that too.

And this was really nothing as this apartment is already well stocked with 90% of what we'd need. But when you go into something like IKEA, you're just forced to re-think your lifestyle choices. I made myself rationalize how much I didn't need. Handy buckets to hold things, organizers for my random tidbits, a big plastic tub to put clothes in, wet Swiffer pads, these were just a sampling of items I put in the cart and left behind. People don't believe me but I used to overdecorate my rooms. I had jars for my jars. Picture frames for my pictures frames. LACK tables for my LACK tables. I can consume with the best of them.

I need to find a fucking dollar store.

Also, I cleaned like crazy tonight. My room smells like biodegradable all purpose cleaner. I want to turn this scent into a cologne. Last week, during mid-afternoon sangria, we decided that we were basically the Househusbands of Brooklyn. It's the most boring reality show you've never seen. I can't cook but I'm so Tony Danza when the mood strikes. And those smoking gloves are just the thing for not getting your hands dirty. While I was perched up high, wiping down the big windows facing the street, someone walked by and gave me the double thumbs up. That must be the universal greeting for post-midnight, semi-OCD, cleaning people.

Come visit, I have a bed for you now.

"I have slept in 26 locations in the last seven months.This was never my intention, this peripatetic life, but looking back now at the age of 40, I can finally see I have been doing it for decades. I wanted so much more for myself at some point, though I cannot even remember what exactly it was that I wanted anymore."
-Where I've Laid My Head-