I survived the funeral. I say that as if I had another option, other than surviving. What else was I going to do? Die? Not go? Whine and drag my feet? That’s dumb. Of course I survived the funeral. It was sad, and basically horrible, but it was also good and I hugged a lot of old friends and there was just a lot of love there. I am thankful that the family of the little boy who passed away is leaning on the only real hope there is, Christ and the hope he offers us, that we’re living for a purpose and He holds us together.
After the funeral I went thrifting and bought some jeans. Thrifting is seriously one of the best things ever. I wish I had taken a picture of the incredible purple vintage dress I found, but I didn’t even think of it, nor did I buy the dress, although I think I maybe should have because it was awesome. Purple with flowers and lots of bunchy puff-sleeved ’80s awesomeness. I went to Gong Fu tea after I had my little bout of retail therapy, drank some kind of life-changing tea that was insanely, miraculously delicious called Cloud Nine, and then walked around the East Village for a while to kill time because I put too much change in the parking meter, and when laundry is $1.25 to wash and another $1.25 to dry, quarters are absolutely not to be wasted. Then I came home and watched Dr. Phil while I folded my laundry. This is how I have managed to survive today, thus far. I’m going to continue to survive by going to the store to get a screwdriver so that I can put my blinky butt safety light on my bicycle, and to get something yummy to take to a grill out tonight with a group of people known as the Supermodels, and then I’ll go to said grill out and I will eat massive quantities of meat and I will laugh a lot and possibly cry. I rarely cry, so if that happens it will be a big deal.
If you read this whole thing, I love you.