I Think I Might Be Hungover

Well, at least I finally got some sleep. Somewhere after three in the morning last night I finally went to bed. I just took the most memorable shower. This place has a shower that feels like a car wash. I started laughing in there, it was so sarcastic. “Oh, you need a shower?” SPLOOOSSSHHH! It knocks you back. The only thing it didn’t hose away was my intense headache from yesterday’s all-day drinking jamboree. I don’t understand why the man who rents this place doesn’t have nine girlfriends — one he dates and eight that date the shower.

I took a train by myself to Penn Station (meaning someone dropped me off at the train and someone was there when it stopped, so I’m not that bold of a girl yet). The entire time I had convinced myself I was on the wrong train. Then I went to the wrong meeting place but luckily so did my cousin.

Coffee, baby pictures, family discussions, catching-up. This was probably the eighth or ninth time I’ve seen my cousin in my life. We didn’t grow up near each other and he’s older than I am so when we were kids we really had nothing in common, so I find it amazing how alike we are. We have the same sense of humor, the same tastes. I wish we had been able to see more of each other. I love him very much and I’m glad I got to spend the day together, even if we did forget to call my mom to wish her a happy birthday until the very second the train was arriving to take him home. Next time.

Get yourself a friend who’s a concierge, because he can tell you where you are, where you want to be, where you want to drink afterwards and how long you’ll be at each place. We had lunch at a mexican food place with margaritas stronger than any Trudy’s Mexican Martini. We were giggly and stupid and then went to another place to meet up with another friend for more drinks and being stupid until we went to another friend’s place to meet up for more drinks and being stupid and there was even another place before that where we met up to meet up before we went somewhere.

So today I sound like Marge Simpson. My jeans are still wet from the rain that never stopped yesterday, and I’m ready to have a nice quiet bagel followed by a quick lunch with my editor and then some sight-seeing. Yesterday was just a day full of looking at the bottom of an empty glass. I just want some water.

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