Currently, I am looking out the window of my hotel room in Manhattan, the Upper West Side. Michael and I just shopped at the Fairway market, and I am once again convinced that this is my favorite part of the city to stay in. It's a neighborhood. A busy neighborhood, but hey, I can hit the Starbucks, the Fairway, and the liquor store in about five minutes. Then I can walk to the park, go to the gym, and then find the 72nd Street subway atation and go downtown to dinner and a play.
Yesterday, though, I was almost weeping because I was so exhausted. The idea of being in Manhattan was antithetical to my need for doing nothing. I have been doing something since about May, and I'm pretty damn tired. I feel as though I were in True Blood all summer, an extra, the hapless woman who is periodically drained by a vampire.
"Where's the drainee?" the director calls. "Bring her on."
I raise my hand, walk into the shot, get drained, walk out.
So the notion of walking through crowded streets and battling anything city like suddenly seemed wrong.
"Why aren't we going to Hawaii?" I asked Michael.
He didn't have a good answer, except, of course, that he hates the beach. Well, fine.
But we are here, and I feel great about it. We've already been out and about once, and have two other out and aboutnesses today. I feel relaxed, and likely that's because I'm not at home. Not dealing with boxes or moving. Moring traffic is nothing compared to that.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org