Love That Dirty Water

(July 29, 2001)

A veritable crater of a pot hole was the cause of a neck-snapping, teeth-jarring "WAKE UP! And by the way, WELCOME!" Hub was driving; I wasn't exactly asleep, just zoned out. The offending pot hole was just before the Cambridge exit, at 3am this morning. Crappy roads. Oh, Boston. You're my home.

Despite a grueling drive back and falling into bed as the first light started showing around the edges of the day, I only slept until 11. I'd say that 6 hours of sleep after being up for 18 hours straight is pretty weak. Made coffee. Listened to voicemail. My mother called three times and my grandmother called twice. I was only out of town for THREE DAYS, people. WHAT DO THEY WANT? WHY DO THEY KEEP CALLING ME? I don't know what my grandmother wants, because her messages are like the shrill barks of a mental patient: "HONEY. THIS IS GRANDMA. (click)"

What my mother wanted (each time) was to find out how I liked the play. Y'all remember that the wedding was Friday night, then my brother's play was Saturday, off-off Broadway. It was Danny and the Deep Blue Sea, a short play for one man and one woman. It was actually really good. I was moved.

I haven't returned any of the calls yet.

I did have to call the hotel where the wedding was held. I'd left my clothes in the closet.