magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

Ellen was taking the day off of work and driving to Vermont. I stumbled into the office a little late, hung over, and wearing the clothes that I was wearing yesterday.

Last night, at the first bar, a girl had been waiting at the next table from some of her friends to show up. When they did, she said to one of them, 'Happy birthday, bitch.' I called Chris, told him this, and said, 'Happy birthday, bitch.'

After work I found myself at a lounge in the West Village, drinking half-priced Crown and ginger-ales (the order just spilled out of my mouth) with a few people from work, and a couple of John.S's friends, and a couple of their friends. And after the other PDG people filtered out, and we went to the Thai restaurant across the street, and then another bar a few blocks away, I realized that I was now the youngest of the group of people I was out with. Which was weird, as I'm used to being the oldest in social situations. Of course people in their 30s really aren't any different from people in their 20s.

Chris did call me back while I was out, but was headed to see Becky, and so I told him that since he didn't actually buy me a birthday drink until after midnight on my birthday, that a couple of drinks with brunch tomorrow would have to count as his birthday drinks.

People drifted off, one or two at a time, as the night went on, until there was nothing left for me to do but to go home. And climb into bed alone, realizing that the t-shirt I was taking off that smelled like someone else was the same t-shirt that Stef wore while I was in Italy, initially because it smelled like me.