Big fat snow flurries here in Brooklyn = time for cocoa espresso. One of my sisters, a Romney supporter, isn’t speaking to me because I offered to buy her a mope-a-cino. Think she missed the whole “I’m buying” part. Being from a split-ticket family only sucks for a few weeks every four years. It was my turn to hug the television last night – there’s much to celebrate.
We get to say “Ba-bye” to the seven men who just had to comment on ‘the whole rape thing’. Plus three more states, Maine, Maryland and Washington legalized same sex marriage. Also health insurance is staying on the horizon. This means I’ll have to get over a paralyzing fear of doctors sooner than my 80th birthday…we’ll deal with that later. Much later.
Lights finally came on for my family in Jersey late last night (after 8 nights without power, water or heat), thanks to utility workers from Pennsylvania. We took in some powerless people over the weekend, and now it’s clear why I’m in the market for a sleep helmet. I’m told I talk, walk, spin into walls, punch the air while declaring “I win” and organize a room full of invisible athletes into teams – all in my sleep. Very talented. My sister’s friend screamed when she woke up in the middle of the night to me standing behind her with my arms out.
Things should be getting quieter now that I’ve scared everyone away. It’s time to get back to what really matters: books and writing. Tomorrow we’ll go Into Thin Air, which I’m re-subtitling A thousand reasons to never climb Mt. Everest. Hint: bad things happen to all of the people, including a sleepwalker. Imagine waking up to find you’re actually falling off a mountain. On that note, see you tomorrow and waddle on the sidewalks – they’re already looking slick.
Here’s a messy view from my fire escape: