Even by their habitual self-satisfied standards, Cafe Grumpy's patrons seem unusually delighted with themselves today. Also playing some kind of trace/hip-hop mash-up.
Had a little too much wine last night. Not sick; just humiliated by maudlin behavior: may or may not have told Slim I'd marry him. Perhaps not by coincidence, he woke up from a nightmare last night in which he was "battling an evil witch."
I had nightmares myself. First, I was on some road trip to University of Vermont (it gets worse, though) and no one else in the car would stop to try any regional cuisine. ('Don't worry,' Slim had to say to comfort me - I was weeping - 'when we go to Vermont, you can have all the crackers and milk you want.') THEN I dreamed my brother had killed our neighbor, and made his skin into a hot air balloon (well, the head was him and the body looked like a strike rat) but the balloon wouldn't ascend and just sat on my family's roof, incriminatingly. And I tried to cover for him by claiming that the balloon was made, not of human skin, but of a new kind of papier mache I'd crafted from instant oatmeal. Am still awaiting reassuring phone call from Charlie.
Reason I was drunk: Slim and I had a date last night. In an attempt to do justice to the meal, I didn't eat anything all day and so of course couldn't hold my drink at all. We took a cab home and after I slipped out the driver said to Slim,
"never let that happen again. Your lady should never have to get out of the cab first."
(Also: saw Bonjour Tristesse yesterday and am considering a gamine crop.)
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