long yesterday

Like every morning, yesterday began with someone else’s alarm and the brief interruption of that someone else looking for his pants in the dark. We don’t have a dresser. Finding pants involves excavation. Noisy excavation. At quarter to six in the morning. We should get one of those headbands with the light attached.

Anyway, someone else was looking for his pants with a belt draped artfully around his neck, and then his phone rang. A minute later, he was back in bed.

Snow day.

Of course snow days are only good for elementary schools an hour and a half west of town. You know, where they actually have snow, instead of some kind of wicked “wintry mix.” I got up when my own alarm went off and watched it fall, handfuls of slush dropping heavily from the sky and landing in my cement courtyard. I put on the thick socks my mother knitted for someone else and then my rainboots. I wrapped a scarf around my neck and wore my white winter coat, even though it looks weird with that dress.

Someone else woke up and asked if I wanted a ride to the T. Someone else even ran downstairs to start the car before we got in. And helped me find my advanced reading copy of The Willoughbys. And shoved my normal shoes into my backpack for me, so I could put them on later.

It’s only a half mile between me and my train stop. So there were only a half mile’s worth of cars backed up, trying to travel the same corridor my train would soon travel, but failing. We rounded the corner to see a car accident – tires slipping in the wintry mix – and a cop car, parked horizontally atop the tracks my train should be traveling on.

So someone else drove me to school, an adventure that took about an hour. And someone else has no sense of Bostonian direction and is in desperate need of a GPS, so the going home adventure took about an hour and a half.

The rest of my day was long and strange, good and bad. I was doing some work. I found a vending machine in the basement that dispenses Starbucks bottled frappucinos, in chocolate and vanilla, for two dollars. I tried the DoubleShot yesterday – I was just tired, tired, tired – and found out that despite the price of 2.50, the machine insists on charging me a dollar. A DOLLAR. I was at work, doing some work, drinking my coffee, eating my snacks. Thinking about this Lois Lowry paper I’m going to have to write. Thinking about how I’m going to write two major papers, simultaneously.

Then work was over and some of my classmates drove into Cambridge to go to Lois Lowry’s house.

Don’t worry, you’ll hear more about that later.

It was really, really cool.

But it gave me a headache. The whole thing, the whole long day gave me a headache. It starts in my shoulder, my neck, and then runs up the side of my head to my jaw and then my eye and one side of my nose hurts and gets all drippy and then the pain makes me a little nauseous and sometimes I cry.

I have yet to figure out how to conquer or prevent these headaches, that seem to appear only when I have long days, like these, even long GOOD days. Except with a lot of sleep and then a lot of Excedrin, which is obviously a counterintuitive prescription.

So I came home, eventually, and had this headache, but I made dinner anyway because I was hungry and so was someone else. It was good. It was a sandwich. Someone else went into the other room to practice his trumpet and I lay on the futon and watched Glee and tried not to cry because I was feeling so miserable and stressed and how is it that I can be so stressed even when my days are good? Even when I have nothing overtly BAD going on in my life? Why can’t I do a long day without physically breaking down?

All questions that I still don’t have answers to.

But I went to bed early and someone else did the dishes for me and woke up and it wasn’t snowing and maybe there would be sun. And I had my Excedrin. And that vending machine is still on my side.


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