Thursday night, I got a text from a couple I adore. I love going over to their house. They know how to throw down. The man part of the couple turnt (I’m hep!!!) 50 and they invited me over Friday for his birthday party. Why I gotta have an incision?
I was so upset. But I’m not allowed to drive, or do much, and they live maybe 15 minutes away. “Don’t worry,” they said. “We’ll get together soon.”
I know we will. But I wanted to right THEN. Have they met my impulse control?
The next day I got a text from my neighbor, R. She and her husband were headed to this really beautiful little town about 30 minutes from here, to go see a documentary. Did I want to go with them?￼
Dang my uterus.
And that is why, Saturday night, against my stern doctor’s strict important orders, I showered, put on makeup, even put on pants—PANTS! And drove to the next block where another neighbor was having a party.
I hadda get out, man. I was FOMOing at the mouth. I figured since it was so close to my own house, I could pop in there and as soon as I started to feel bad I could go home.
The photo at the top of this scintillating post is my pants at the party. I didn’t want to take pictures of people and then pop it up on this extraordinarily popular blog and expose their faces to the world, so I sneaked into the coat room and took this picture. Naturally, someone walked in just as I was doing it and I looked like a crazy person. “I have a blog,” I said, which didn’t make me sound any more sane. Or current.￼
The party was great. It was to celebrate my neighbor moving here a year ago. She has all sorts of interesting friends, and she even had a cake decorated like the logo of the mill that is the whole reason this little millhouse neighborhood exists.
I got there ridiculously early, because I asked some of you on Facebook of June what time you should attend a party that starts at 5:00, and most of you said about 5:15.
I was the third to arrive.
I cursed you all mightily, but talked to the few people who were there and you’ll be shocked to hear I let those people know that I had had surgery and that it was my first sojourn out of the house in 11 days.
Before long, other guests arrived, and had I gone with my instinct to get there at 5:45 I’d have arrived with them like how on sitcoms everyone walks in the door in a clump.
I hobbed and I knobbed, and finally I made my way back to the living room and saw that the mantle clock said 8 o’clock. “Look how well I did!” I said to the people I had met at the beginning of the party. “I stayed later than I thought I would!”
“That clock is wrong.”
Anyway, I stayed an hour and 45 minutes. I was tired when I got home but I didn’t feel so bad. Then Sunday I did feel kind of shitty, to tell you the truth. Kinda shaky. Damn this incision and curse it right. It cuts me to the quick.
But none of this is why I gathered you here. Since I have had nothing but time to convalesce during this, my convalescence, I have been noticing how many people have been being nice to me. Oh my God you guys, I have gotten food and presents and cards and flowers and of course my mother and stepfather flew all the dang way here, which by the way I remember almost none of.
Today on Facebook somebody said that when you’re in a predicament like the one I am in, you should make a list of the things you need done. Then when people ask what they can do, you can show them the list and they can pick something from it. I think this is brilliant.
So let’s talk about being helpful at times like this. [points microphone at you]