O.K. It was go time.
I went to a craft store to get a paper tablecloth for the table I would set up outside. Nope. No paper tablecloths festive or otherwise. I did find a Happy Birthday yard sign that will take me an hour to set up. I bought that.
Back out into Friday afternoon traffic. Where was I going? Was I driving down the impossibly busy road hoping to spy The Birthday Store I had never before noticed? I hadn't a clue.
So I stopped at the liquor store. This was good. I got big bottles of wine. Now there was a start. I would need more, of course, some beers, more wine. But I could come back tomorrow. Good start.
Next I stopped at the grocery store. I walked in. Confused. Why was I at a grocery store? I went to the bakery and ordered a cake. Oh, that was good. I almost forgot about cake. I looked at the Happy Birthday balloons. Yes, I would get some of those when I come back to pick up the cake. Good.
I went back to the car empty handed. Back out on the highway, I wondered where I was going. Shit. I was going to order wings at the deli. I was beginning to break down. I called my mother.
"Hey, there is no way I'm going to make it over today. I'm stuck in traffic and I'm trying to get stuff for the party and I don't really know how to do this and so. . . . I just won't make it today."
I stopped at yet another grocery store. I panicked and bought treats for me. Candy. Cheese. Stuff.
I couldn't go on. My hands shook. My body quivered. I went home.
Sushi Friday, I thought. I called in my order. I fed the cats. I was panicking. I couldn't pull off this party. What party? Did anyone even know? My mother has not been helping. She doesn't tell the neighbors. There could be just the two of us sitting out with decorations and a bunch of food and drink. Fuck. Why? Why did I ever say anything about a party.
When I walked in to pick up my sushi, I was bum rushed by the entire restaurant, it seemed. A tall fellow with a goatee and long legs protruding from his miniskirt was delighted to see me. The manager called to me as she approached, her low cut blouse revealing a tattoo on one of her very large breasts that I had never noticed before. Two waitresses came up to chat. Everyone said my name. I was unprepared for this bizarre attention. I grabbed my food and hurried out.
At home, I wanted to eat on the deck. See the photo at the top of the page? That is my hometown as winter approaches. At dusk, the mosquitoes swarm. Still, I wanted to eat outside. I slipped on a pair of long pants and set the cartons out. I poured the sake. Kanpai, old chap. I sat down to eat alone while mosquitoes fed on my bare feet and ankles. I looked to have crazy leg syndrome as I bounced my legs and kicked my feet about. Truffle salt edamame. Miso soup. Tuna kobachi with a side of sushi rice. Good, I thought, but not good enough. I am tired of eating all my meals alone. I lamented. It had been a very long time since I'd prepared and eaten a meal with my own true love. This shit is getting old.
I wanted a girl who could plan a party. Yup. That is what I wanted. Someone to tell me what to do. I would do it.
There are no longer any good thoughts that aren't tainted by the bad. I am like a German Shepard, I thought, a one person dog. I am loyal and fiercely protective, independent but easily trained.
Whatever. This way of thinking was doing me no good. I put the empty containers into a bag and walked them to the trash. The I poured one big whiskey to kill the inevitable sushi worms. Darkness was falling. Mosquitoes and darkness, fear, anger and loneliness drove me inside. I turned the t.v. to YouTube. "The Best Songs of 1969." O.K. What a weird year. Three songs stood out: "Get Back," "Honky Tonk Woman," and "Hot Fun In the Summertime." I Googled Sly and the Family Stone. I went down the rabbit hole. Damn.
A little more whiskey and bed.
This morning, my belly churns. There is much to do. I will get out early and try to get party material. Party things. The stuff one needs to make a party. You know.
Shit, piss, fuck. . . goddamn.
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