If not for the snow I'd be grumpy about the weather. But the snow! How I love it, how magical it is, how it adds a new dimension to otherwise bitter cold. I was envious, last week Alistair was in warm Paris and all my favorite bloggers in Europe were basking in the sun. Crunching snow under my feet made it easier for me to accept that we were due for a long winter.
Wednesday evening I took the train uptown and felt so nervous I couldn't breathe. I had an appointment to get a crown put on my tooth. I imagined the pinch of the syringe in my gums, the loud whir of a drill. I was so afraid of this appointment that I'd put it off for forever.
My calm dentist told me that it would be easy as pie, I wrung my hands and asked him, "What's the exact procedure? I'm afraid of the dentist."
"There is nothing to be afraid of," he laughed. Twenty minutes later my new crown was snug on my tooth, needle and pain free. I was so happy I bounced to the subway and took the train home.
Saturday I woke up anxious and excited. I'd had another meeting with a friend from my friend-finding-app. We made plans for tea in West Village at Luv Tea, something I'd been dying to do for awhile and too afraid to bother anyone about it. It was the perfect afternoon. We both ordered date and ginger tea, a table cleared as soon as we needed one. We had a lot in common, both having spent some time living in Florida.
On my walk home I passed a psychic who was sitting on at a table on the sidewalk.
"Hey can I talk to you?" she said.
I knew this shtick.
"Ah, no thanks," I said. I gave the New Yorker wave -- a dismissive shake of the hand down near your waist, and a shake of the head -- and kept walking.
"But, you have a very strong energy, I can feel it," she said. I looked at her more closely now. She had her coat and scarf on, but she didn't look older than nineteen.
"Just for a minute!" she said. I laughed, people on the street were beginning to watch. I kept going east.
Eventually I turned south and aimed for the grocery store. I saw a familiar face coming towards me on Spring Street. My ex, also nicknamed on this blog as Alistair (among many other nicknames for complicated reasons), looking giddy and smiley (most likely about something running in his head). Thank god for my winter hat, which goes to my eyebrows and covers my hair, the big coat that hides my figure, that makes me a mystery woman. Sometimes people I know well don't even recognize me this way. I popped in the grocery store feeling relieved about the lack of interaction. I pilled my favorite decadent foods into my basket: prosciutto, salmon, and coastal cheddar, and this delighted me. I'd had a good week. I had things to look forward to.