I was too lazy to check the weather this morning (yes, as in, I was too lazy to press a single button on my remote control) so I dressed in a skirt and knee high boots. No tights, obviously, because eww. Little did I know that the weather is no longer resting comfortably in the mild upper 40’s. No, today – coupled with the wind chill – it’s about 17 degrees out there. Which means that on the walk to work, I got quite a few “is she serious?” looks. It’s 6pm and my legs are still a bit red. Further proof that my debilitating laziness gets me absolutely nowhere.
The reason I’m wearing a skirt is because M and I are going to Fancy Schmancy Steakhouse this evening. Normally we have no problem shelling out the cash in order to eat at a steakhouse because we are all about making ourselves sick by gorging on large hunks of meat accompanied by large hunks of mashed potatoes. Tonight, however, is free. M appeared on CBS recently and, in return for him giving his expert advice, they gave him a gift certificate to the steakhouse. I’m weird in that I don’t like using gift certificates - there’s an element of embarrassment for me, as if I want to say to the server yo, we could afford to eat here if we wanted to. But, whatever. The certificate is for $200, which means a good portion of it will be dedicated to wine, sweet wine.
Why so much wine? Well, it’s been one of those days so far. I lost a bit of my footing at work (Universe: Thought you were getting a little too cocky little lady. Me: Go shove it) and I now have a slightly unsettled feeling, which is a huge contrast to how I’ve felt overall about this gig – supremely confident and very capable. It’s annoying. I do cocky well; unsettled has me craving a cheeseburger and my parents.
Speaking of the people who conceived me, I’m going home for a bit this weekend. They’re throwing a dinner in honor of my father. It’s a surprise. He hates both a) surprises and b) being the center of attention. Of course he’ll handle it all with humor and grace because, even if he’s no longer an active politician, he can still whip out the “so nice to see you! You ever sell that house?” Tangent: It was my father who taught me never, ever to say “nice to meet you.” Since he and I share an equally abysmal memory (my mother or sister or brother will bring up something – say, a childhood vacation – and my father and I will have no recollection that it actually happened), he always told me to say “nice to see you” because nothing is more embarrassing than saying “nice to meet you” to someone you’ve already met. It’s all about covering your ass.
And, while we’re on the topic of asses, I still haven’t heard from my friend, the one who ambushed me on Tuesday. I’m slowly numbing myself to the situation, which is the first step for me in cutting someone out of my life. So it has begun.
Try to think of using gift certificates the same as you would think of someone else buying you dinner. They just don’t happen to be there. (Hey, it can’t be as embarrassing as using coupons.)
That “Nice to See you” bit is truly an excellent piece of advice.
As far as your ambushing friend - I couldn’t imagine that happening with guys. That’s when you stop hanging out with those people. It’s just time. Both parties strengthen by moving on.
I hope letting go makes you feel better.
Those situations are icky… sorry