(purple bike. photograph by Yael Ben-Zion.)
The word describing how I most often feel on Sundays is parched. It’s hard to explain-I put a lot of pressure on every day to be shiny and life altering, and by the time I get to the day that everyone seems to fill with brunch and laziness or brunch and running errands, I’m completely exhausted.
I have a terrible relationship with relaxation, so I cleaned, and because I like to make lists, here’s what’s on the table next to my bed right now: quarters, hairclips, coffee mugs, a hairbrush, a glass jar with scissors, pencils and paintbrushes in it, my passport, eyeglass cleaner, a ceramic bowl I bought in Amherst last year that holds barrettes, beads and hair elastics, two bottles of pills, a picture of me in my prom dress, deodorant, squares of stiff colored paper, my phone, my yellow scarf headband with the purple polka dots, a pile of pictures cut from magazines, pieces of cardboard stamped with the names of my characters.
Additionally: Made and ate a deliciously buttery, super burnt grilled cheese sandwich. Reaffirmed the fact that Zabar’s coffee is infinitely better and cheaper than Starbucks. Thought about writing a story just about the evolution/variety of someone’s nicknames. Took a long walk listening to Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me, laughing to myself and looking possibly insane. A lot of people seem to be pregnant, in a hurry to get somewhere, grocery shopping, dressed in fancy clothes, walking their dogs, going to the gym, sitting on benches, wearing hats, and wondering if it will rain.