Five-Day Weekend 

Friday, May 20, 2005

Sometimes I work eight or ten days in a row. I like what comes afterwards; vacation time.

This week I have five days off in a row.

Last week I was really looking forward to it, assuming that I would be spending the time with someone I fancied. Of course, I screwed that up. I deserve to be roasted on a spit and, as no one has stepped forward to do the torturing, I have been doing a splendid job at it on my own.

I've completely lost my appetite as a result of all this self-criticism. Interestingly for someone who is squeamish about actual physical pain, my skull feels like it is one big bruise this morning. It hurts to shampoo. I am pretty sure I did not bang my head into a wall last night. The only explanation is that I have a brain tumour.

Day one of the five-day weekend meant spending a lot of money and hobnobbing at the Federation of BC Writers AGM, where I got to meet a lawyer from my former law firm and I recruited him for my upcoming literary project.

Yesterday's credit card bills will haunt me in a few weeks. For now, I am quite excited about my new plants. I got orange mint and Corsican mint - adding them to last week's grapefruit mint, and my other mints (spearmint, peppermint, pennyroyal, eau de cologne mint, apple mint, chocolate mint and Moroccan mint). After last week's sweet woodruff disappointment - it can only be used to flavour white wine - I made sure my other herb purchases were edible. My new sweet cicely is entirely edible: leaves, flowers, roots, seeds. My other new plant, the tiny hyssop, has edible leaves and flowers.

I also did something extraordinary. I bought a non-edible plant. It doesn't even repel insects like my balm of gilead. Yes, the sweet woodruff makes up for its uselessness by being awfully cute though it still, thankfully, has wine-flavouring qualities.

My latest plant is even more useless. It is a black-leafed clover.

I picked it out because most of the stems sprouted four-leaf clovers. Perhaps it can be useful after all.

One of the magazines had an article on narghile, or the hookah. This is a hobby I've been meaning to take up. I have smoked cigars, cigarettes and one or two other things, but never this. It was a sign.

The facial was expensive. A while ago, Litblitz and I agreed that beauty salons are like brothels for women. We pay to be touched, too. Only I am kinda peeved that my facial cost $65 while a blowjob in parts of town goes for $5.

Overall, though, Day One of the monolithic weekend was not bad. I managed to not think about me.

This is Day Two of my five-day weekend. Beggars can't be choosers, so I accepted a date with my Bawdy Aunt to see the new Star Wars movie. She's seen Kingdom of Heaven (I was counting on Orlando Bloom cheering me up) and she is not up for Crash.

My roommate assigned me to copy songs onto her iPod. I have another 25 CDs to go. Star Wars will get preference over the iPod.

It gets worse tomorrow. My roommate moves out leaving me all alone in a big house in the middle of nowhere. (If you are reading this and you are a serial killer, I don't live at 8584 Woodgrove Place in Burnaby.) I haven't found a new roommate yet. I hate knowing that the house is entirely empty.

That's the reason I got a hamster. I needed another non-microscopic living being with me in the house. The hamster, however, does this creepy thing where she stares at a corner with her back to me. It reminds me too much of the Blair Witch Project.

I haven't had a roommate since 1999 and, while I like being able to shower without anyone else's schedule in mind, it's nicer to come home on some nights and find dinner already made and a video already rented. This roommate, in particular, had good taste. Last week we watched Veronica Guerin, Napoleon Dynamite and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.

Tomorrow night it all ends. No more cosy evenings at home. I don't watch TV but I turn on the clackering box for the noise.

These five days alone are daunting.

My mother suggested I go to work and just volunteer there. Good idea, but that's one of the stress points in my life. Everyone goes through this and I'm supposed to be regenerating on my days off. My mother also suggested I start working at the catering company. I think more along the lines that I standardize my schedule and start temping again on my days off. None of these ideas will help me on my current five-day weekend.

I have all sorts of projects, with a Sunday deadline for reading over two stories, I want to finish reading one book and to go on a marathon Steinbeck binge, as well as cleaning the hamster cage. Aside from the hasmter part, all other activities will take place on The Street. My other plans are hush-hush - in fact, I am pretending I don't have plans at all - whenever I make plans it seems that they go terribly wrong. I think Fate has it in for me and if Fate knew that I have good times planned, Fate would squash my plans as ruthlessly as usual.

And I have officially decided all default fantasies will involve my past semi-cross-dressing paramour. That ought to keep me busy.

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