I had another night of debauchery, and so the three-day weekend continues to be celebrated in style (and not in a style particularly suited to honoring the memory of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. either, which is amusing). I woke up around ten this morning, forced myself to shower in the belief that it would make me feel better (a belief that was partially accurate), and then spent the entire afternoon sitting around the living room with Adit and Priyanka, snacking and watching football while reading my manuscript and making notes about the changes that I want to make (which are depressingly extensive, and so I really need to get cracking). I had a moment of despair when Adit took pleasure in pointing out that if I had been born a year earlier, I would have started working at my current employer a year earlier, which would have made enough difference in my net worth that I could be semi-retired and living in a fabulous loft; and if I had finished my book a year earlier, I might have easily sold it before the start of the recession and the collapse of the publishing industry. Sigh. This line of thought was not particularly useful or productive, so I mourned what could have been for a few minutes before getting back to work. I also mourned Arizona's decimation at the hands of the Saints, since Kurt Warner is an Iowan with a heart of gold, but I digress.
In the evening, I went to Jasmine and Michael's for dinner -- it had been a year since I last saw them, which is almost unforgivable, and I attribute it to the extreme hermitage that I have partaken in over the past few months. I met their son Kieran for the first time; he is one of the most adorable babies (well, one-year-olds) that I've ever seen, and it was fun to see and play with him even if he was a bit fussy at diner. We hung out for several hours, continuing to drink wine after Jasmine put Kieran down for bed, and it was absolutely lovely to catch up -- hopefully I'll see them again sooner than a year from now.
I left their place around 10:30, after receiving a dozen missed calls from Adit, who very inescapably insisted that I meet up with them for karaoke. There's a new karaoke place less than a block from the apartment I rented from the Chandlord, which includes private karaoke rooms, wine/beer/sake, and food, all of which is a great idea. I arrived in time to sing enough that I expect my voice will be scratchy tomorrow; after drinking some wine, I just go for it with the singing, and my enthusiasm theoretically makes up for my marginal talent. The room was full, with Adit, Priyanka, Anton (the former inhabitant of my room), Amanda (Anton's wife), Nir (whom I mistakenly referred to last night as Neer), his girlfriend Molly, two kids named Eric, and Katrina all hanging out. We sang a lot of songs until almost one a.m. and I had over half a bottle of wine, and we ultimately vacated in search of a bar. Sadly, both of the bars that Adit and I wanted to go to were closed, and so we ended up at this weird bar called Outsiders that we will never go to again. We had one drink there, then found a taxi to take us home, and now I'm calling it a night.
Hopefully I'm not hungover tomorrow -- I really need to get going with the writing, and there's no time like the present. Other than making my way over to Vidya's to retrieve my car from the alley where I left it tonight, I have no serious plans tomorrow, and so writing will make its way into the cards. For now, though, I really need to go to sleep -- goodnight!
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