i am not ready for this whole summer thing. this past weekend at brown was fantastic, and the heat at least made sense there. the week or two leading up to it new york was cool and drizzly, completely at odds with my weather memories of commencement, which mostly boil down to james and me watching our baccalaureate from the main green in sunglasses and t-shirts. (if you did a tally of pleasent/inclement commencement weather memories, things might not actually turn out well for little rhodie.) friday was, as campus dance is wont to be, uncertainly rainy, more the threat of rain than actual precipitation, but then we woke up saturday to bright humidity and a really warm day, and sunday totally came through, with sun and breeze and my first (hopefully only, and minor) sunburn of the year. but in new york the heat just totally sucks, and with three months of it stretching out into the hazy distance in front of me, i'm commencing the 2006 session of my years-old tradition, bitching about the summer heat.
and so i blame the heat last night for what happened this morning, which i'll share as the email i sent to james. i blame the the heat, which necessitated the wide-open opening of my bedroom window. (there are two cat-friendly window apertures - two-inches, and wide-open-to-fit-in-a-screen, last night's crappy crap heat calling for the transition from the first to the second, until i can get something to fit between my air conditioner and the window, because my air conditioner doesn't have those expanding accordion wing things.) so i blame the heat, which required the open window, through which came the noise from the construction across first avenue that starts around 6am every day, which made the already-difficult sleeping even worse. (of course, none of that's to blame - just me, and all the drugs i apparantly did in my childhood. gah! - no drugs - just me! accept the blame, jaime, okay?) as i wrote to james:
don't know why i'm compelled to tell you this. this morning i set my alarm for 6, optimistically, for the gym. at 6, decide to sleep, [obviously. i mean really. duh.] but apparantly don't re-set it for 8, because at 9:15 i wake up. leave stephen a message at work that i've had alarm clock troubles & will be about an hour late. you'd think it'd end there, right? on my way to the shower i remember that we have a reading at 10:30 this morning, so i can't afford to be late, and start rushing. you'd think it'd end there, right? i then remember that i haven't made copies for the reading, nor have i highlighted a stage directions script. so i take the fastest shower of my life, and am in a cab by 9:30. call stephen, call mark, get to work at 9:50, after the most* moronic cab route of my life (5th ave?!?!). start copying and highlighting in a flurry. you'd think it'd end there, right? stephen comes in and points out that -- wait for it -- the reading is tomorrow. i shouldn't be allowed to live.james' response:
*second most, after the guy who took broadway to 43rd st at 6:55 on a tuesday night.
Wow. Really? That's truly impressive. I love that my thought this morning was that you were already gone, for some reason. Why THAT would have been my assumption, especially now knowing the morning's actual events, is truly beyond me.but it's really a good thing he didn't come in to make sure i was up, since i was sleeping in my underwear, and probably fighting off the covers.
Well done. As usual.
glad i can still impress him, after all these years. but why, we ask, would i tell james, superjudgmental, already-thinks-i'm-a-twit (even though he loves me) james? you know the end of x-men: the last stand? when jean grey and wolverine are standing on top of that pile of stuff, that thing she says to him right before he does that other thing? i felt sorta like that, like jean grey, there.