|I am not sure what to make of this fortune.|
Tickets for both of us, round trip, cost $80. That felt expensive, but maybe it's reasonable? I have no way of judging, now that MTA prices are going up, and gas costs less than $2.50 a gallon. It was snowy on our trip, but nothing dramatic -- just enough to make everyone in Connecticut want takeout Chinese. The wait was an hour and a half for delivery on Saturday night, so we borrowed a car and picked it up. Chinese food costs the same amount in Connecticut, in case you're wondering, as if there is a tri-state agreement about how much a combination plate should cost.
We played dominoes after dinner, and I lost. I probably called everyone at the table a monster at least once during the course of our game, including an 80+ woman.
Sunday there was a birthday brunch, and J & I covered part of the bill. Then we headed back to the city, and I chugged my way through an assignment.
Monday I anticipated snow all day long. At night, I went out with friends to High Dive where I got a whiskey (or, more rightly, where J got me a whiskey). A friend had invited me over for drinks in front of his fireplace, which sounded lovely, but the getting to and from sounded less lovely. I've lived for over a decade in New York, yet find myself with no reasonable winter boots or winter coat, because I hate shopping for boring things.
I abandoned my friends from High Dive, who were on a hunt for wings, and stocked up at the bodega on the makings for baked ziti. And gummy bears, because a day without gummy bears is no day at all.
It was anticlimatic to wake up on Tuesday to mere inches of snow, so I slept in disgracefully late, pretending that I had a snow day. Then I remembered that freelancers have no snow days, and got to work. At night I met friend at Buttermilk -- another birthday. We gathered to watch Jeopardy, and I foolishly bragged that I'd do well on the NYT best-sellers category and then did not. I drank two whiskeys -- one that J bought for me, and one from when a friend bought a round -- then came home and made myself a cheese sandwich. I can't recommend that as a 10:30 meal, but it was thrifty I guess.
Wednesday, I worked worked worked and called my health insurance company. The automated "thank you for your patience" messages grow more and more infuriating as the clock's minute hand starts to approach a 360-degree rotation. I went out to Housing Works in the city to see Billfold Live, and picked up a burrito on my way home. I graciously shared it with J - payback for all those whiskeys.