Wednesday, March 04, 2009

The Remains of the Day

Tonight's Van Morrison concert at the Beacon theater was the nail in the coffin that was my day.

Every freaking parking spot between 66th and 86th Street was taken; even the commodious parking lots on Amsterdam were filled to capacity with diabolical parking attendants standing outside waving on prospective patrons with an energetic shake of the head and an exaggerated mouthing of the word, "NO."

You gotta admire the pleasure some people draw from something so simple as dashing people's dreams of actually making it into a concert they paid $500 to attend.

"Van Morrison. Tonight at 8," read the marquee on the front of the Beacon. Well, how in the heck was I supposed to know about this concert? Perhaps if I wasn't locked into such a marathon of work, too stressed to read anything as diverting as the arts section of the New York Times, or even the past couple of New Yorkers, unable to make it to my gym, one block away from the Beacon, FOR AN ENTIRE SOLID FREAKING WEEK, I would have seen the marquee and known about the Van Morrison concert and not thought that it was a good idea to drive my little black Honda down to the JCC earlier this evening.

Naturally I could have taken the subway but we had a parking spot right in front of the apartment which was not good for Thursday anyway and the car seemed a cozy, civilized way to make it down to the gym after having spent THREE FREAKING HOURS on the phone with a perky T-Mobile tech repair person who was determined to fix my Blackberry...and didn't.

Besides which, the car was perfect for transporting groceries as I planned to pop into Fairway after my satisfying workout to stock up on healthy munchies, including a delectable gluten-free, high fiber, low carb snack I tasted this past weekend that is ONLY available on the second floor of Fairway. And Illy coffee because it was already too late for Zabar's, which closed at 8, and which I missed because of my FREAKING THREE HOUR PHONE CHAT with T-Mobile. And a new bottle of Oil of Evening Primrose capsules to keep my raging hormones in check, which I was unable to buy more cheaply from The Vitamin Shoppe because, alas, it closed at 7 and yes, I was on that FREAKING PHONE CALL which resulted in a big, fat, nothing and destroyed my chances of exercising at home before the babies in the apartment below us go to sleep and I can no longer use our treadmill and ended nearly an hour after all the T-Mobile retailers in the city were closed so I couldn't event race down to a store and BUY a replacement phone right away.

And I really needed those Evening Primrose capsules because I have a horrendous combination of perimenopausal irritability and good, ole' PMS.

I didn't even think it was possible to be courting menopause and persecuted by my period at the same time.

Somehow, I thought that one would graciously bow out to make way for the other.

I never envisioned being tag-teamed by both.

And just in case you're wondering what the big deal is about the THREE HOUR T-Mobile call, let me inform you that the five hours prior to that call were filled with an almost implausible array of time-wasting, maddening, ridiculous pursuits, a TERRIBLE experience at the hair salon and a charming half-hour visit with a representative from my e-mail's server...because my e-mail was coming up in triplicate, nearly crashing my Inbox....leaving me without my secondary form of communication.

And without the primary one -- my Blackberry -- as well.

Well...that's all in the past. I have a big event tomorrow night, okay, not as big as the Van Morrison concert, but respectable in its own right, and I am sure that after I race down to a T-Mobile store first thing tomorrow morning and buy a new Blackberry, then complete all the preps for the event while trying to do some major hair rehab, all will be fine.

In preparation for things to be fine once again, I ate half a bag of cheddar cheese popcorn, bought at my local deli. I just love scarfing down carbs late at night, knowing I haven't moved my butt in a week. I cannot wait to see what I look like in the dress I am planning to wear to this event tomorrow night. I better reserve at least an hour of trying on and tearing off a variety of outfits while crying.

Well, I'm gonna sign off now. It's time to make a strong cup of Lapsang Souchong, my favorite tea, curl up on my couch and watch Nancy Grace who is always in a pissy mood as she goes after criminals in pursuit of justice for their victims -- women and children.

Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad SUCKY-TO-THE-MAX, ridiculous, maddening, wasted freaking day.

Yet someday, it will all seem like the stuff of high comedy.

Already, I cannot wait to tell my sister in Israel about it. I am practically rehearsing the punchline..."and then I drove down to the JCC and there was not a single, FREAKING parking spot available for an entire mile! No...I swear!!! But d'you know why????"

Thus are our small tragedies artfully spun into more useful stuff -- a humorous keepsake, a good story, momentos of a particular time in our lives when things were a certain way.

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