For a completely abnormal weekend, I ran off to Halifax sans enfants, and stayed up all night Friday night, drinking. I believe my last drink was handed to me shortly before 5:30, just under the wire for the boundary between late-night and early-morning alcohol. Phew. Wouldn’t want to cross that particular line.
After this night of debauchery, or at least alcohol infused laughter, we finally retired at 7-ish, and stayed a-bed until noon. I, being the youngest and least tough of the crowd, decided that a day at home to recover was in order while everybody else went into town. What can I say? I’m a lightweight. And I’m out of practice. That’s probably a good thing.
To stay in the overall theme of the weekend, I chose to spend my found time watching several hours of HGTV. I had a brief emotional flirtation with chucking it all and moving to Manhattan and then I remembered 1) I hate the city. Even Halifax is a little large for my tastes. That’s why I was home watching TV rather than cruising the downtown. And 2) I’m absolutely unwilling to do the kind of work required to purchase a $2 million apartment. So I settled into a vague sense of envy, mostly overwhelmed by the overwhelming relief that I don’t have to find $7000 to pay a condo fee next month.
My friends returned from town, having accidentally purchased $17 socks (see? the city just sucks money out of your pocket. best to stay away altogether.) For the rest of the afternoon, I was mocked mercilessly, because they kept catching me playing Bejewelled on my host’s iPhone. There are pictures. Here:
And here:
Apparently they don’t think I should get one. After they caught me sitting on the floor in front of the TV watching “just a few more minutes” of Selling New York, they also kindly suggested that my choice to live cable-free might have been a good one. ‘sokay. I’m sure I can find it on the internet somewhere!
Tomorrow: On the idea of externalities, and the earth as a closed system. Because I might need a reminder of my values after rooting for the $1 million beach house in Nicaragua. (But it was Sooooo sweet. Post-colonial, anyone?)
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