Wine, Toast, and Snow

It's 12:30am, and I have an empty bag of ranch flavored rice cakes by my side and a $1.99 bottle of wine (screw cap) on the bed stand. Yes, I am in bed, and yes I'm a little drunk.

I'm gonna take another hit of wine before I write this next line...

I've been having trouble getting out of bed a couple of times this week. I'll get up and then instead of doing the workout that usually starts my day, I go back to bed and lay down for several hours listening to the radio at just the right level that it makes you want to fall asleep.

If I was getting up earlier I could have fixed the roof on the garage... cleaned out the garage, got some of my own projects done, but alas, I have not got that stuff done either.

I just took another hit of wine.

I've got two writing projects posted on the walls of my bedroom but they remain uncompleted.

Tomorrow I'm supposed to get up and run hills, and I should also lift weights or jump rope too. I usually have no problem doing the run tomorrow as it is a day that I run hills. Now running hills is not the funnest thing that I can think of, but it beats a green stick fracture in your leg.

I want to eat a lot of toast right now, but I'll wake up my roommate.

One of my favorite memories is coming home from work in the middle of a blizzard in NYC. I took a cab home at about 2:30 in the morning (a Friday night) and the snow that was falling that night was huge. Each snowflake seemed to be the size of softballs. My roommate was not home and I was hungry and all we had in the house was a loaf of bread and some margarine.

I must have eaten 18 slices of bread that night as I watched the snow fall on the street below which was lit like an orange from the street light on the corner below. Beyond that was the George Washington Bridge which was lit up like it always was. We had a great apartment right on the Hudson, and I watched the snow fall, the daintily lit boats crawling up and down the river, and slice after slice of toast.

Now that I think about it I was probably drinking right out of a bottle of cheap port that I kept in my room. It was around the holidays and I was drinking a lot of port then. So much port that I had to tell myself to stop or I was going to develop a problem.

Getting back to the snow and the toast... the apartment that we had was one of those NYC apartments that was always 1,000 degrees which is what I'd rather have than freezing all of the time.

I brushed my teeth and took off my clothes and fell into bed knowing that Donna Lee was not there that night and wouldn't be back until Sunday.

I woke up Saturday a little dull from the alcohol and of course the snow was piled high at 10am when I woke up. No matter what time I went to bed, I always woke up at 10am. I still do after an all night bender.

That was a long time ago, gee, about 15 years ago.

Just the other day I was watching the movie Big. And where the boy met the Zolton machine was just over the bridge from my apartment in New York. I used to go running over the bridge often and I would end up down at that park a lot. It was always deserted when I ran over there.

In case you've never been on it, that bridge is long. I think it used to take me 10 minutes just to run across that thing. Now I never claimed to be a fast runner, because I'm not, but as I watched Big and saw that bridge again I was reminded about how ginormous that bridge is.

I just took another hit of wine.

Gonna have a headache tomorrow and some hills to run.

Afterward I'll have 6 egg whites and some toast.

Kurt