Preservation

Yep. It's that kind of day.

The question is...am I the cat or am I the asshole who put up the sign? I'll admit I've been both in my 25 years on this rapidly-deteriorating-because-i-forget-to-recycle planet. But today. Today I am neither. Today I am the person taking the picture. The person who thinks the cruel, yet, wittily placed sign is deserving of preservation. I am a preservationist.

But while on my quest to preserve things, in this case, a sense of usefulness on a day I have nothing to do, I made a discovery. 5 beers consumed at 2 in the afternoon, for no other reason than that I had beer and was mad that my room is too small to turn my bed, is a bad idea. A bad idea that has left me with a headache, a craving for chinese food, which I refuse to acknowledge, and the realization that I'm having a bad day. Like not as bad as a guantanamo detainee, but definitely worse than a senate democrat. Like about this bad. I don't really have a plan for making it better, but that's what late night trysts with strangers are for.

Yes. The plan is for a night out with Michael and Suze. Where we are going in this great big New York City, I do not know. But it will no doubt be somewhere I can commence in adorably awkward conversation with proper strangers (or maybe improper if I play my cards right) and collect a few more stories to tell my not-grandchildren about where my not-wife and I not-met.

How exciting. Let's hope I keep with today's theme of preservation and hold on to my dignity.