The First Weekend

I thought this weekend would be hard. It was my first weekend in London post-BN2, and between Christmas and New Year and the fact that our split was several weeks ago, I knew I couldn't expect the sort of friend-on-standby-to-do-anything-at-any-hour support I've been lucky enough to receive in the past.

I feared the strangeness of routines that used to include BN2 but now have to be re-established on my own – feared feeling like an outsider in my own life. And I feared the emptiness. I had plans for Friday night (which got cancelled), and then plans materialized for Saturday night that morning, only to get cancelled later in the afternoon. But though BN2 often found fault with it, I found my own company to be, quite frankly, not that bad.

My Saturday morning routine: I would run the four-plus miles from BN2's to Pilates (where I've been going since before I knew him – though the Saturday run there was a 2009 addition). I'd do my favourite Pilates class, then walk over to a meeting I attend weekly. And every single Saturday for at least the past year when the time came to answer the question "How are you feeling today?" I would write "anxious." Often it was "anxious and sad" or "anxious and frustrated," but it was always "anxious." This past Saturday, though, I wrote "hopeful," and felt a flash of joy tinged with sadness. Call it mourning for all those hours and weeks and months I lost – and for how much pain I withstood, and for the girl (me) who allowed this to happen.

This Saturday, instead of running back to BN2's (well, I'd usually run about halfway or 2/3 of the way), I decided – rain be damned -- to satisfy my craving for Waitrose chicken and dumplings for lunch. By the time I got home at 2 pm I was soaking wet (I'd forgotten an umbrella when I'd left for Pilates), freezing and very hungry. All I wanted to do was eat (grr, I do miss BN2's microwave!) and be warm.

But my upstairs neighbour, who in five years I've spoken to about four times, had died while I was in the US. (This I guessed between a letter that was addressed to his estate, and then a conversation I'd overheard on the stairs, about a funeral.) I could hear his family upstairs, clearing his flat, and I thought about the two very steep, narrow flights to reach it (mine is just one flight up; his is two) and how miserable it is to go through the belongings of someone who's died. I looked at my lunch with regret, put on a fleece, and went upstairs to express my sympathy and offer to help carry a few boxes.

He had books by the dozen to be packed and taken to the charity shop. I also carried downstairs CDs by the bagful, and his sister said: "If you want any, you should take them." I assumed they'd all be classical – I'd always guessed he was in his 50s (his very-young-looking mother told me he'd been ill for 30 years, but "deformed" for the last bit of it) and his name alone sounded very academic. I stole a quick peek and saw Sheryl Crow, Bob Dylan – and Toad the Wet Sprocket, a band I listened to in high school.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" his sister asked, returning from a trip to the charity shop down the street.

"I wouldn't feel right taking his CDs," I said.

"We'd rather know you had them and were enjoying them than just giving them to the charity shop," she said.

Later that afternoon, when I went out to run an errand, I saw my neighbour's computer and either a shredder or a printer (I didn't want to look too closely) sitting on top of bags of rubbish waiting to be collected. I wondered what secrets and stories the bags contained – what random things he'd saved because they had special meaning to him, but had been thrown away because his family couldn't decode them. Then I went upstairs and put on my new Toad the Wet Sprocket CD.

***

Two victories: 1. Finished 10-mile race on Sunday morning – for which, I might add, I was ridiculously unprepared thanks to not having run for nearly a month because of the ice and snow. And though it was hilly, my time was only 1:32 – under 9:30-minute miles, and rather close to 9 minute ones. 2. Have, as of noon today, been completely off diet Coke and other artificially sweetened carbonated beverages for an entire week. I expect this will be the subject of another post, but let's just say I used to drink diet Coke like it was my job. Truly disgusting amounts of the stuff.

Friday's gratitude list: 1. Got four-month contract (now let's see if I can keep it). 2. Random run-in and glass of champagne with charming and adorable brother of A-list celebrity who is probably a C-lister in his own right. 3. Date cancelled before I got on the train, as opposed to when I was already on it or had arrived. (Hey, it's the small things.)

Saturday: 1. My new CDs. 2. Possibility – a day to do whatever I want with. 3. Blogs (I'm not talking about my own) – lots of food for thought.

Sunday: 1. Lovely clear day and not too cold for run. 2. Fun tea and catch-up with a friend at Wagamama (it was 3 pm – she needed to eat. But wasn't at all bothered by sitting with food.) 3. Long (and long overdue) chat with best friend in Chicago.

And – I know you've all been waiting for this (ha) – what makes me happy. I've tried not to overthink it otherwise I'd never post it! So...
1. Singing. Not in any professional or even organized sense – I just like to do it, particularly if I can hide my voice behind other people's!
2. Road trips – especially if they're spur of the moment. Also travel in general.
3. The sense of possibility – that anything could happen and just might.
4. Anything that makes me laugh (because I know I'll laugh about it for days. When I find something funny I find it endlessly funny, and people probably think I'm crazy because I'll literally walk down the street laughing about something someone said four days ago.)
5. Books from my childhood, particularly the Little House on the Prairie series.
6. Finding a great bargain (so great I can afford it) on something I have coveted for ages.
7. Being asked for advice or recommendations -- and in the last case, actually knowing off the top of my head what to suggest.
8. When things are tidy and organized (which is, like, never – note to self: put on new CDs and get cleaning)
9. Reading, especially a really fantastic sentence that so particularly nails a feeling that I have to reread it eleventeen times.
10. Non-work events that serve champagne.

Lori and JessiferSeabs... tag, you're it!