red hair and black leather

So I took Friday off to help me catch up on my sleep and generally recover from this horrific mood I've been in for the last few months. Good idea, right? Not when I decide to drink like a fish (I'm not the only one who had this idea - check out stephl's description of her weekend).

Friday, we slept in, lolled about, and then went to lunch. I LOVE having the day off and hanging out in a bar for lunch. It always feels vaguely seedy and fun. Came home, worked out, and then Z & I went to the opening of "Driving Miss Daisy" at the Showboat. It went fine, but Z had had to correct a few bad habits that had formed during the St. Cloud run. The audience was smallish, but they seemed to like it. We were convinced that the Artistic Director of the Guthrie was in attendance until we actually heard the man speak. No Irish accent - no Joe Dowling. Hmmph.

Prior to the show, we went to dinner at the only restaurant near the Boat. It was, to say the least, odd. The place tries to be about 5 different things at once - a neighborhood bar, a swanky club-style restaurant, a sports bar, a family restaurant, and a party area. There is a pull tab booth next to the mahogany-inlaid bar. I've decided that every place I eat in St. Paul that is not located in the immediate downtown area will have a surreal experience or two for me. Part of that has to do with the fact that St. Paul is a small town in its heart. I don't know what the other part is.

So we drank before the show, and then during the show, and then we decided that it would be wise to go to the Market after the show for a few drinks. Oooof.

Saturday, Zach had to go to work, so I got up, drove him in, and then came home and worked out and cleaned for the party that I hosted that night. Baked bread, made pico de gallo, usual things.

The party was a lot of fun, even though there was a moment where I wished I wasn't hosting so I could go home. But people enjoyed themselves, ate up all the food, and it ended with my friend David and I staying up until 4 a.m. discussing politics, which is the usual cap to my parties. All well and good. What was not good was my falling asleep on the couch when David left. I didn't even change out of my dress. Zach had to come get me at 8 when he woke up. Le oops.

Sunday, I finally returned Carl's Buffy DVDs to him, and he gave me a ride to the Market so I could get Z's truck. I went to the airport to meet an Anarach friend of mine during his layover, and we ate at the Mall of America. Dropped the friend off, realized I had forgotten my purse, and went back to the MOA to fetch it. While I was there, I decided to wander around a bit and lo and behold, I found a Coat. A full-length black leather coat on sale for $135 down from $400. I lurve it. I wasn't planning to spend that much, but I lurve it. It's heavy, and as it slid home on my shoulders I thought, "Yep. This is the one." So, got the coat, picked Zach up, we went over to Sally's for dinner. Had an incredibly tasty dinner, Zach dropped me off at home, I ran lines for a bit and then went to sleep.

Woke up today, still stiff and sore, and walked in to work because the bus drivers are still on strike. It's been snowing on and off for the past 2 hours or so. I'm not looking forward to the walk home.

I cannot go out at all this week. Cannot. Remind me of that, will you?

Yesterday was... well, weird.

I went over to Zach's to talk through everything. It's a tricky situation, and we're both trying to cope. Sometimes, it's not so easy. But it was good.

That wasn't the weird/bad/sad part. That came when I dropped Z off at the Market. As I was pulling in to the parking lot, a rather drunk man and woman in their mid to late 30's stormed past the car. Okay....

I dropped him off and turned around to pull out, when the couple came back around the corner into the parking lot. He was yelling at her and sort of dragging her along. Zach and another bulky guy who had just come out of the Market yelled at him to stop, which didn't do a damn bit of good. He hit her, threw her to the ground, and starts advancing on the guys. I'm still in my car, so I rev toward him and throw my headlights on "bright" to blind him. I felt kind of cowardly not getting out of the car, but a) there were two 200+ pound guys ready to take the drunk guy on and b) my car is able to do more damage than I am. A vehicle's a good weapon, used properly.

Drunk guy finally staggers away, yelling invective all the time, we get the woman to the other side of her car, and then the first of six squad cars show up to subdue this guy. The woman is bawling and saying that she wants to see him locked up, and then staggers toward the cops to watch the proceedings. Bulky Guy tells us that they do this every two weeks. He hits her, he goes to jail for two days, he comes out all contrite, and then the cycle starts over.

Fuck, man. I've seen this play out more times than I'd like, and every time it's like a kick in the gut. What happens, what throws that little switch in someone's head? In either case? How does the basic need for love and companionship get twisted so far that people will accept any amount of abuse, emotional, physical or mental? How do people think they deserve it, that that's the best they can do, that the situation is acceptable?

I ask these things, knowing full well that I've walked that line a few too many times. My template is a fucked-up one, and I'd really like not to follow it. "There, but for the grace of god..." and all that.

Never underestimate the human capacity for self-destruction. Never ever.