11am: I suddenly feel I absolutely must make Colombian food for the Colombia-Brazil game. I head over to a little Latin Grocery store in Chirilagua and stock up on materials. I attempt to make empanadas and they look like this:
12:00-2:30pm: Based on the first two attempts, I forgo the empanadas and make arepas, arroz con pollo, yuca and corn instead. Everything looks a little weird, but it tastes OK. Also, I am a very slow cook.
4:00 pm: Colombia Brazil game starts.
4:07 pm: Brazil scores. I begin drinking.
5:20ish pm: Brazil scores again. Pure and utter heartbreak. I move on to my second gin and tonic. I stress eat approximately 42 pounds of fried yuca and cheesy arepas. It is a choice I live to regret.
5:40ish pm: Colombia scores. Hope restored. Officially in love with James.
5:50ish pm: Game over. Colombia loses. Sadness is deep and pervasive. James is so sad and I am so sad. Who to root for now? I have family in Holland, a Belgian great-grandfather and Argentina is a Spanish-speaking country. But Colombia is probably culturally closer to Brazil than Argentina. It’s going to be a tough choice.
6:30ish pm-7:30ish pm: Devastated not only by Colombia’s loss, but by the fact that I have finished off the last of the gin. My roommate, best friend and I walk 1.2 miles in less than 15 minutes to the nearest ABC store and make it just two minutes before closing. In my roommate’s words, “Good hustle, team!”
7:30-9:30pm: I think we were just lounging around waiting for the fireworks to start during this block of time. Possibly, lots of emotions were involved. I hope not.
9:30pm: Fireworks start. I realize I have a spectacular view from my balcony. I’m feeling good about things again. I have a nice apartment six miles outside of D.C, a view of the Washington Monument, Capitol and National Cathedral. I’m enjoying the fireworks with my roommate and best friend and feeling good.
9:35pm: All partied out. Time for bed.
9:45pm: I’m laying in bed listening to Nina Simone’s Don’t Let me be Misunderstood on repeat and contemplating life.
Almost exactly one year ago, this was happening. I think life is starting to feel normal again, more settled at least. I love this song because most love songs are about the beginning of love, the end of love, the magnificence of love or the crappiness of love. But this one is about the everyday-ness of love. Nina Simone is like, Look, sometimes I’m in a good mood and sometimes I’m in a bad mood and I’m sorry. But thanks for loving me anyway. Isn’t that what we all want? Nothing like Nina Simone and a few gin and tonics to give you a little clarity and perspective.
5:30am: I have the sleeping habits of an 80-year-old and I’m up at the crack of dawn. I clean up the kitchen, check some emails and weigh myself. I knew I’d regret the yuca. Somehow I gained THREE pounds overnight. That’s like two weeks worth of hardcore working out. Bao will not be pleased. I decide to walk three miles to Old Town Alexandria to pick up my bike from the shop. However, I think I might still be a little tipsy because this is the outfit I pick out for myself:
7:45 am: I get to old town and realize the bike shop doesn’t open until 10am. I probably should have checked this before leaving the apartment. I decide to stop by the farmer’s market and am strangely entranced by Irish clog dancing. I decide Old Town Alexandria is really nice and I need to get out more. I’m feeling a little self-conscious about my aquatic shoes.
8:30am-10:00 am: I have 1.5 hours to kill. I head over to Starbucks and decide to do some writing. I’m slightly ashamed that I’m at Starbucks right now because I like to consider myself an independent coffee shop kind of girl but somehow I always end up at Starbucks. It seems the vision I have of myself does not quite match up with the reality of myself.
Alright, going to pick up my bike now.
Categories: Me, Me, Me