I love grocery shopping at night. It feels more leisurely, since I'm not shopping to rush home and cook dinner with the new groceries. At Fresh Market, I can spend a few extra minutes drooling over the bakery case, at the truffles and tiramisu, and even stop for a teeny cup of the coffee of the day to sip while I shop. And the store is empty and quiet, and the parking lot bare. There's a beautiful loneliness about shopping at night.
Which sound contrary--that I would revel in that particular loneliness while at the same time have a hard time getting through each weekend without becoming terribly depressed.
We usually have people over for dinner Saturday night, so my Saturdays are spent preparing deliciousness and cleaning. The hard part is after--when the food has been eaten, games have been played, and then the guests and Tim go back to the theatre for rehearsal. I like having my week nights to myself, but the weekends are too much. This Saturday, I was in the mood to take the evening out to the burrito place, and sit at their bar getting drunk on Coronas with lime, eating their amazing cheese dip.
There's a chance I might be able to, the next time I see her at task force, ask my new potential friend to go out for a drink. I think our conversations have been working up to that, and it wouldn't be awkward, and I wouldn't stutter over my words.
But Saturday, it wasn't that I wanted to go to the burrito place and get to know a new friend over beers, it was that I needed an old friend to go with. Someone with whom I can talk about everything and nothing. Where it's completely comfortable, and I don't have to worry about getting too drunk if I'm in the mood to get too drunk.
It's hardest of all not to have these friends here.
So my Saturdays are spent industriously, so I can relax on Sundays. But there's nothing particularly relaxing about laying around all day because I can't motivate myself to leave the house, or even to clean up the breakfast dishes, call my family, or fight with the cats over who gets to sit on The World's Most Comfortable Chair (I just let them win). When, if only I could leave the house, no doubt my depression would lift.
Which sound contrary--that I would revel in that particular loneliness while at the same time have a hard time getting through each weekend without becoming terribly depressed.
We usually have people over for dinner Saturday night, so my Saturdays are spent preparing deliciousness and cleaning. The hard part is after--when the food has been eaten, games have been played, and then the guests and Tim go back to the theatre for rehearsal. I like having my week nights to myself, but the weekends are too much. This Saturday, I was in the mood to take the evening out to the burrito place, and sit at their bar getting drunk on Coronas with lime, eating their amazing cheese dip.
There's a chance I might be able to, the next time I see her at task force, ask my new potential friend to go out for a drink. I think our conversations have been working up to that, and it wouldn't be awkward, and I wouldn't stutter over my words.
But Saturday, it wasn't that I wanted to go to the burrito place and get to know a new friend over beers, it was that I needed an old friend to go with. Someone with whom I can talk about everything and nothing. Where it's completely comfortable, and I don't have to worry about getting too drunk if I'm in the mood to get too drunk.
It's hardest of all not to have these friends here.
So my Saturdays are spent industriously, so I can relax on Sundays. But there's nothing particularly relaxing about laying around all day because I can't motivate myself to leave the house, or even to clean up the breakfast dishes, call my family, or fight with the cats over who gets to sit on The World's Most Comfortable Chair (I just let them win). When, if only I could leave the house, no doubt my depression would lift.
posted by LE at 8:53 AM
1 Comments:
I think I could spend hours at the Fresh Market. Their baked goods are heavenly. They have some sort of pecan pie/cheesecake that is so wonderful. I love their Portuguese rolls, especially warmed up in the oven and eaten with European-style butter (creamier than the American stuff) and/or a nice soft, mild white cheese (like farmer's cheese).
I think I see a Fresh Market trip in my future.
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