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The Things I Thought About This Week
I’m typically optimistic on Monday mornings. New week! Fresh start! Time to do some ass kicking!
On Sunday night, though, I couldn’t sleep. I was stressed about work stuff and my brain was louder than the traffic out on Third Avenue.
I already forget how Monday went. I don’t remember it being particularly good.
Then, on Tuesday morning, I went for a run. I don’t even remember the run. I’m sure it was lovely. But I remember how it ended.
I was cruising home along a busy downhill street. To my left was the fruit stand guy, selling his apples and bananas. To my right, people were getting off the subway. And straight in front of me, on the ground: danger.
And then it happened: I got hit in the face by a pigeon.
That little shit up and flew right into me and fluttered his dirty wing on my cheek. It was disgusting and I screamed and my face is forever tainted in filth. I have yet to be formally tested for bird flu, but I obviously have it (no you’re dramatic).
Since then, the week hasn’t much improved, but we made it to Friday so that’s a victory, right?
Also: Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit.
So Happy Friday and Happy March and Happy Spring is Coming.
I don’t quite have it in me to write poetry today about how running is blissful and work is stressful and my stomach is still sloppy, so instead, I will just tell you every single thought that has crossed my mind throughout the course of this tumultuous week.
I could not care less about Fashion Week. Fashion in general is so un-interesting to me. I just can’t bring myself to care about the fashion tents at Lincoln Center. I don’t care who’s there, I don’t care where people are seated and I definitely don’t need to know what’s happening on the runway because WTF is that stuff? Are those “looks” things people actually wear? I don’t get it.
That being said, I would love a personal stylist. Just someone to take me shopping one time, pick out all the stuff that would look good on me and essentially get me to wear something other than jeans and a Lululemon sweatshirt to work every day. Apply within. I pay in Entenmann’s snacks.
The days are getting longer! It’s light out when I finish running in the morning and the sun blasts into my eyeballs every day at 4:25 PM, which is a painful and distracting yet beautiful thing.
I have never been so busy that I have forgotten to eat. Those people who are like, “OMG, was so busy today, totally forgot to have lunch!” Yeah, I don’t relate to those people. In my entire life, I have never missed a meal.
You know that huge rush you get after you finish a really amazing long run? You’re all energized and proud of yourself and you’re just like, “Yup, I’ve just nailed this day. Boom.” That’s how I feel after my laundry is done, folded and put away.
I have done a significant amount of research on the topic of “opening a Dairy Queen franchise in NYC.” I’m sorry to report that us Manhattanites won’t be getting delicious Blizzards anytime soon. I’m really sorry. I swear I’ve tried.
One of my nightmares is getting hit in the face by a pigeon. That has already happened. So another one of my nightmares I’ll tell you about is having to do partner work in group fitness classes. If I’m there with a friend, great. But I’m probably not. Having to “pair up” is awkward and it makes me feel like I’m back in elementary school. I loved elementary school, but I always hated the partner stuff. No group projects for Feller, please. Let me do it myself. That applies to making posters and also ab work.
This is also a nightmare:
‘Tis the season. Thank God.
One of life’s littlest joys is licking the top of the pudding cup. I got to do that a few times this week and I loved it. Licking the top of a yogurt cup doesn’t bring me the same excitement.
Sometimes I think about the Old Man of the Mountain and I get very sad. If you’re from the great state of New Hampshire, I know you feel me. RIP, buddy. You lived free, and then you died. Sorry you face-planted into the mountain.
You may know that I am a collector of fine art. Yesterday I received a piece to add to my collection, which I’m so excited about.
You know that song that’s like, “Peggy! Peggy Sueeeee! Put your loving arms now babyyyyy?” No? Yeah, that’s because there is no such song, despite what I’ve been singing (yelling) for years now. The song is called “Beggin” and the lyrics are, “Beggin…beggin you…” Not “Peggy Sue.” I learned this tough lesson when I saw Jersey Boys.
Brian has finally returned home after his 8-day tour of the major U.S. cities. I forgot what it was like to live with someone and yesterday, when he asked if he could have one of my deliciously homemade granola bars, I actually said no. And got kind of pissed about it. I’d say my Girlfriend of the Year title has been revoked but let’s be honest, I was never even a front-runner in that competition.
Also, while I was here, Crohnsing in the cold and baking delicious things, Brian was off being productive and seeing cool stuff and making big moves. Allow me to share the fruit of his labor:
Data-Free February was awesome. I never wore my watch when I ran and I loved it. Distance? Time? Pace? Turns out, you can still really enjoy running without knowing all those numbers.
Speaking of “really enjoying running”…I really enjoy running. (And to think, I said I wasn’t able to write poetry today. Look at that beauty of a sentence!) I got to write about loving running and identifying as a runner for Women’s Running magazine. Check it out.
It’s funny looking back now and remembering having such a hard time “calling myself a runner.” Now I don’t think twice about making sure every single person I meet on public transportation knows I’m a Brooks-wearer who enjoys spending time on the Bridle Path in Central Park.
I love finding mistakes in other magazines or newspapers. Like this little gem I spotted in last weekend’s New York Times:
Now it’s time to wrap up this week. I’m off to Photo Shoot #2 (out of three).
Be safe out there. Watch out for flying ass birds.
TELL ME WE HAVE SOMETHING IN COMMON. Or share what’s been on your mind this week. We really haven’t caught up in a while. I love you.