Keep The Days Alive

There were letters lined along the top of the mailbox when I came home. Has it been that long since I last checked the mail?  Apparently so as I yanked open the bulging door and a pile of magazines fell out. For a moment I felt like one of those old spinsters, the ones still living in the same apartment after thirty years and spends days eagerly awaiting the next subscriptions of Mary Kay and Penneys. How did I get here again?

Oh right. Welcome to the new single life. Where friends pack you with condoms, dare you to get "that" guy's number,  and graciously pimp you out to their best friend's roommate's cousin, who's really awesome but not your type.  Granted I do appreciate that friends are trying to keep me busy.  So busy in fact that much of the last month has been one fuzzy dream.  I'm not sure I was ever really in the moment.  I'd go out, smile, talk, nod, shake hands and make witty remarks at the appropriate times.  Yet through all of it, I just felt kind of numb. Sometimes I'd remember where I was and what I was supposed to be feeling.  And then I'd just want to go home and eat Oreo cookies. 

It's part of the process everyone says.  Those blues came yesterday in the late afternoon, making the task at hand suddenly unbearable.  Thank goodness for Sarah's idea of hitting the Ferry Building after work.  I needed the company.  But the dinner high lasted only until I was on the bridge, at which point I proceeded to call everyone on my speed dial list.  My dear friends are good cheerleaders and never fail to offer the kind of advice that keeps on giving.

 "Keep these things in mind and you'll be fine.  Don't die. Don't get an STD. Don't get fired. That's in no particular order btw." said Tyee before wishing me a good night.

Right. Okay, will do.