wallowing in freakish misery

I sat in the bathtub crying, knowing he was sitting in a restaurant somewhere in the Village, waiting for me. I also knew he’d understand. Or at the very least, forgive me at some point down the road.

I cried until I was done — until my own mind said, This is fucking ridiculous. Then I got out of the tub, got dressed and painted the bedroom.

I got my first piece of real mail yesterday. It’s always nice to see your name in real handwriting, I think. And pulling the package from the mailbox where it was crammed to fill every inch of its tiny space, I knew what was inside. A few tears leaked out in the elevator on the way to my apartment, and when I opened it, that’s when the real crying began. My father’s package contained one small stuffed lamb and… Cadbury eggs. Not the miniatures ones, granted, but his note did say a man with four daughters may have a hard time remembering the details.

Full of loneliness and self-loathing and worn down by nights of half-sleep and disturbed dreams (I’ve dreamt about Richard Dreyfuss twice now), I filled the bathtub and hoped that Will wouldn’t be too upset with me. I turned off my cell phone, knowing that if loneliness was my issue, I was certainly doing nothing to fix it. And that’s just how I wanted it. I needed a bit of time to wallow.

And so I did.

Later that evening, painting done, I had dinner and a beer (the beer being a kind contribution from a previous visitor), and settled in on the sofa to watch Notting Hill. By the time Ari dropped round with a most excellent house-warming gift, I was restored to my cheery self. And with the sunrise, feeling much more constant and alive.

There’s a Psalm (Psalm 30, I think) that I remember from my religious days that goes something like this:

Weeping may last for the night
But joy cometh in the morning

Even someone with severe religious alergies can appreciate the solace in that. I mean, really, there isn’t anything that a good cry, a decent night’s sleep and a belly full of breakfast can’t make even a wee bit better.

I did forget to bring my lunch, though. So, I’m gonna have to go out. Anyone wanna join me? I’m done crying, I swear.