Sea Change, My Ass

What was that crap all about? Why didn't somebody SLAP ME.

I've been sick as a dog for going on four days now*, my mother arrived a complete, limping wreck and had to plied with narcotics and muscle relaxants for two days in order to recover, just in time to return home. After depleting my carefully hoarded supply of prescription drugs, she took two of my precious offspring away on a plane without me and off into the wilds of Boston traffic and onto Swan boats and beaches and rotaries and God knows where else and really I'm FINE with that. Just fine.

I had to miss the Keren Ann concert due to a combination of me being sick and my mother being totally stoned. We were out at a farewell party for my neighbors (see list of shitty things below) when it finally dawned on me, at 8 p.m. on Saturday, that my romantic night out was not happening. I actually went table to table, pitching my poor little Keren Ann tickets to happy looking couples, who all regarded me with a weird combination of horror and pity, until I finally slunk away to the front desk of Central Market and asked the guy to try to give them away for me. I hope someone picked them up and had a good time. Hey! You did? It was on me. No really, don't thank me. I'm just glad someone was able to go. The whole failed attempt at giving stuff away was so humiliating that I went back to the playground through the parking lot so I would not have to see those people, with their pitying faces, ever again.

In other shitty news, my favorite people in the neighborhood are leaving not just the neighborhood but the country. I can't even come up with anything more to say about that except: totally shitty.

So let's recap:

1) Unspeakably sick.
2) Unpleasant visit with frail, aging mother who then left with two of my kids in tow.
3) No fabulous night out date after all.
4) Best friends leaving forever.

Everything is SO GREAT!


*I'd tell you the gorey details, in fact I feel strangely compelled to, but I once read a post by Jodi admonishing all who choose to reveal certain intimate details about their illnesses, and since Jodi is my Prom Queen, I do whatever she says. (Sort of. If you click the above link, take careful note of the picture on the right. Looks just like my gorey details!)

UPDATE: A guy just came to my door offering a good deal on steaks. Hey, my luck might be changing! Would you buy a steak that just fell off a truck?

SECOND UPDATE: The magnanimous Jodi took busy time out from grooming her cat and her DOG, searched through her archives for me, and came up with this post. I hope she'll forgive me for breaking her rules, and not force me to eat ten pounds of spicy eggplant when we dine together in July.