I purchased another vintage slip from my friend Kit's store. Vintage slips are very big with me lately, as is the color coral. I don't know what to tell you about this development. Neither does Edsel.
I gathered you here not to admire my slip, which you should anyway. I now have a black one, a white one with little lacy touches, a white one with blue embroidery and now this coral number. I am Coral Roberts. I'm at the OK Coral.
Oh my god, anyway. I GATHERED you here to tell you I have been tired. I know! Riveting.
Monday was a normal day, in that Ned and I had the therapy and went to dinner after and then I went to bed like a normal person. I go to bed around 10:30. Before I lived with Ned, it was sometimes even earlier. But Ned is what you'd call a night person. He was a bartender for about 700 years, before he got a real job, and stayed up till god knows when doing god knows what with whom.
My point is, even now that he has a grownup job, if he could, he'd stay up till 3:00 and sleep till noon. I would too, but I also need about 9 hours of sleep a night. He finds this absolutely insane. HOW can anyone need that much sleep? HOW can I fall asleep so EARLY, he always wonders.
On Tuesday, I screamed home from work and did Tracy Chapman for an hour, sponge bathed and went to Gone With the Wind with a gaggle of chicks. My hair looked ludicrous during that movie. I did not get home till 11:00--already past my bedtime. When I pulled up to our house, Ned was on our porch with the candles lit, and you could smell the roses, and it was too tempting out there. I sat and talked with Ned till after midnight, when I let it all hang out. I mean, my hair was already hanging out.
Needless to say, I was what you might call logy the next day at work. As soon as the workday was through, I came home and slopped all the hogs, then planned to nap, but what I did instead was do effing Tracy Chapman again, because there's nothing like the whole Internet saying you have cankles to really inspire you to stick with your workout plan.
Then Ned came home, and we took a really long walk with the dogs. It was getting dark, and we could smell the honeysuckle, and the moon was a sliver in the sky. And for the first time this year, we saw fireflies. Afterward, we went back to the front porch and the next thing you know, I was getting to bed after 11:30 again.
Last night, Ned had told me he was going to forgo the gym (!) and come take me to dinner right after work. I left work and thought I'd just rest my eyes till he got there.
"What are you DOING?" bellowed Ned, and I shot straight up and clung to the bedroom ceiling. I have never understood people who just come in and talk to you like normal while you're asleep. What's wrong with a whispery approach?
Ned got on the bed with me. I was so hoping he'd want to nap for just a minute, when he said, "Should I have just gone to the gym?"
So I dragged myself out the bed, pulled my shirt around, because that completely eliminates wrinkles, and said, "Okay, let's go eat."
WHY DID HE WAKE ME UP IF HE DIDN'T WANT TO GO RIGHT THEN? Which is what I said to Ned, and he was all, okay, we can go now. But he said it like I was an insane person. It was 6 o'clock.
"You know this means we're old," said Ned, as we arrived at the restaurant at 6:08.
"No, it doesn't," I said, fixing my hair where I'd napped on it. "Everybody eats at 6:00."
And right then is when we got stuck behind a 479-year-old woman making her way into the restaurant. Oh, she had a walker, and a hump, and she would not have beaten an amoeba had it been trying to get into that place for a little amoeba casserole.
The whole time we were stuck behind her, I could feel Ned's triumph. "Don't say it," I told him, as we were finally seated.
"She went to school with the Wright Brothers," said Ned, smiling adoringly at himself in his knife's reflection.
It was a pretty fancy restaurant, and I have no idea if Ned was setting a mood or what. Ned had fish. I had chicken. Between the two of us, we were a regular wedding reception. I also made him split the butterscotch pudding pie with me. God, I love the South.
"No, June. If he were eating her, he'd be performing cunnilingus," bellowed Ned in that fancy restaurant. Had Orville Wright's classmate who'd walked in there with us still had the power of hearing, she'd have fainted dead away.
"You did not just say 'cunnilingus' in a fancy restaurant," I said, reaching for the spoon to balance it on my nose.
My point is, when we got home, we once again sat on the porch, and our plan was to watch Louis C.K. at 10:30. At about 9:00, I said I was taking a nap.
"You can't take a nap at NINE," said Ned. "I'll never see you again."
"That isn't true. I'll just lie down for a minute. You have to have a little FAITH in people," I told him, because I love the movie Manhattan.
And that is how I ended up sleeping for 10 hours last night, and missing the Louie show.