A rootless bohemian like myself, gets knocked down quite easily these days. Here’s what I’m beginning to suspect during my moods of sass: I’m going to pieces. When I finally manage to make that new weaving from all the old unraveled threads on the upside-down loom, or just contrive to stuff all the bits any old where on any old shelf just to get them off the floor, I wonder if maybe I’ve done this to my life, I’ll find that a lot of the stuff I thought I knew the locations of actually don’t look better in their new order. Er. Disorder.

Friday night wasn’t supposed to end that way. It wasn’t supposed to start that way either.

I boast about the amazing women in my life, they are truly remarkable and held on pedestals each one inspiring me to grow. But the Men, leave me speechless. Occasionally us Ladies fall from those stools we’ve cared enough to place our love on. It’s during those moments when tact, style, and grace fly out the window on the wings of a dove; the Men are there for us, as friends. They catch us with arms wide open in case we shall fall.

Running late as usual to the final landing place Friday was, uh entertaining is a good word to use because right now my emotions lack a grip on the formal English language and vocabulary. I’ve been a blithering mess since I woke this morning at 7. Tears have been streaming down my face like rapid fire burning my eyes to pink and used up Visine bottles.

Last night really happened.

I nearly made a silent escape the first time somewhere around 1:00 am. I grabbed my purse, put my coat on, rushed down the stairs, and let the cold rightfully smack me on the face. Turning the key and ignoring the seat belt law there was a tap on my window.

“You can’t leave. There’s a dance off going on in there.”
My lip began to quiver, “You saw what just happened.”

He moved to my passenger seat and wrapped words convincing me to enjoy the party and ignore the present situation. I locked the car and headed up the stairs I would run back down an hour later unable to see straight, not from drinking as I had stopped at 3 drinks somewhere around 11:00 pm, the tears were my broken legs and worn out teddy bear pain

I was tired of trying to say I’m sorry because let’s face it, it’s never really enough.

The Drummer ran after me down the stairs grabbing my arm and telling me I was in no state to drive. He’d drive me home and let’s go grab a bite and figure this out type of thing

I’m stubborn like a floundering fish hooked and reeled in not wanting to die yet wanting it at the same time. I pulled free and headed to the car when my name was called from the balcony. Knowing myself and not quite remembering, I probably threw my hand in the air and all he saw was the back of it.

Second time around in the car I checked the rear view mirror to see if my water proof mascara was working when the passenger door opened again. This time the Ex Frat Man was inside my car for a solid hour wiping my tears telling me tomorrow would be better and to much alcohol was involved.

Eventually I arrived home wondering if I should email Tiffany when the phone rang not once, twice, three times. I opened two bottles of water and fell fast asleep hoping tomorrow would be better. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. It was to be The Best F*&^%5*^ Christmas Party Ever. Minus the drama, it was.