06.15.04 - 10:02 p.m.

Sitting here sweating and slightly drunk while trying to simultaneously A) clean the tub, B) do a load of delicate whites/lights (mostly my stuff) and C) unlock my damn car with the little Alpine beeper which seems to have lost its battery power, which means both my little beepers have lost their battery power, which means I can't get in my car without the alarm going WEEEOOOEEOOOOEEEOOOOEEEOOOOEEEO and seriously, who wants to steal a Tracer anyway?

See? Even when I'm drunk, I can multitask.

Whew. Scrubbing the grime off the bottom of the tub as hard as I just did is a very sobering experience. Not sobering enough to stop the sweat seeping off my body, though, which means I'll have to get back in the tub I just scrubbed to get THAT off me before bed...oh vicious cycle. And definitely not sober enough to make the Alpine beeper work and unlock my car, which is probably better since I shouldn't even get inside to back it five feet up the driveway anyway.

Anyway. Random thought of the day: Stepping out of the E train at 42nd St., I was hit by a whoosh of air that smelled like stale summer, the kind of musty smell that reminds me of nights drinking too late with Carey D in spring 2002. I feel a little heart-hurty thinking about those days, even though they were also filled with angst and the general sense that not much is going on with one's life. A little like I want to cry. A little like the beer is affecting me too much. What was so much better about then v. now? I'm still paying too much for after-work meetings with friends. Still moaning about jobs, apartments, etc. Now I have more expensive clothing, but no closer to any big goals in life, right? So why do I kind of miss it?