diet coke tastes better in the morning.

after curing a morning of doing absolutely nothing with an oversized bagel, recovering from a night of romantic confusion and way too many cc and diet's, i decided it was time for a change. nicks and i raised the volume on our favorite playlists and rearranged our habitats into perfect spaces. taking advantage of every inch. starting fresh. i was struck with an herbal lift of motivation this am, until about 82% of the way through i remembered just how much i hate folding and packing away. i decided that the pile of clothes added enough to the motif that any further efforts were pretty pointless. watching half a season of gossip girl was a clear winner anyway.

i was so proud of my efforts that i decided i would treat myself to a nice date for two, for one. i picked up some nice cheeses from the local shop; the really potent kind that i can never remember the name of as soon as i get home. i even splurged for the over priced jar of preserved plums and a nice bottle of wine. i truly enjoy a solid night of drinking alone with good food and cable. screw sharing.

as could have been predicted, i got pretty wasted, pretty quickly. when you have no one to talk to, you just end up smoking unnecessary amounts of cigarettes and filling the silence by anxiously chugging back your nice wine. it was probably a bad idea to leave the house in such a state. i was further warned when i could barely walk without running into the few trees lining brooklyns street and fences marking entrances on route to a friends place. but, i persevered and made it to my destination in one cigarette and without puking. it seemed like a winning night.

walking into a room of very few, totally sober people, when drunk, can be incredibly awkward. all that confidence i had mustard by just making it there, completely dissipated. it reminded me of when i voted in the last election. i walked into the local church completely spaced, having forgotten an hour before that my mom was taking me to vote that night. i got so excited to contribute to the political make up of my country that i went right for the booth. it took me a min to figure out why the cardboard voting area, empty, but a miniature pencil, had no idea who i was. this older women with a moustache was kind enough to walk me through protocol. im pretty sure my mom thought i was suddenly retarded.

i managed to pull off sober pretty well that night, i thought. although, my memory may have just been deluded from the bottle of wine and half a six pack. who really knows. either way, i made it through teen witch before wearing out my welcome and stumbling back home, alone, with even more effort than the first time.

i finished my last cigarette, hoping not to get mugged and remembered that i had a whole new world to come home to. no magic carpet or funny genie, but still pretty awesome. i passed out half naked, wrapped perfectly in my corduroy comforter. my sleep felt like butter on popcorn. until, like most nights of heavy drinking, i woke up craving something of substance. diet coke being the usual suspect. at 5 am, half wasted and half conscience, water is the enemy. it doesnt even taste like anything. only the sweet satisfaction of bubbly pop will suffice. i rose with purpose forgetting that my life had been completely rearranged, and walked half naked into my wall, mistaking it for my exit. in a drunken epiphany, i was reminded that with change it takes time to adjust.