Wednesday, August 31, 2011


I wake up the next morning – at 6 am – and bolt of out bed. I have 45 minutes to get ready. While I don’t need to be cute for Town and Country, I want to be cute. I have not actually SEEN him in several months, I think seven months – so I am at least happy that I am not a heifer. I am at a weight where I still feel good about myself. Which is good. When I feel bad about myself – that is when I get myself into trouble.

I shower and race around the apartment looking for shoes, a handbag, my cell phone and those effing keys that I can NEVER find. This has been an issue for me decades. Lost keys. I would lose them in my parents’ house, my condo in Minneapolis, and once in the mall (turns out they weren't really lost, so much as buried in the bottom of my extra-large, over-stuffed purse - ask Desi Brother about that one). And now in my WAY small Manhattan apartment, I lose my keys on a weekly basis. I think this is "my thing" - losing keys - they could be stapled to my head and I’d probably lose my keys.

Luckily this gives me time to decide on a black pencil skirt (cannot go wrong with this … ever … even on a fat day) and a dressy black and white horizontal striped three-quarter length tee.  Normally I would not suggest that anyone larger than a size 2 (and I am no size 2) where horizontal striped tees, but this one, if you can believe it, makes me look slim. Whatever – I will take it! I whip open the closet and pull on my strappy black heels and am all set for my … well not a date … my meeting with Town and Country. I manage to look date-able in 37 minutes – a record for Desi Girl. Normally it takes me 75 minutes to be date ready.

I even have enough time to get a venti, skim, 4 equal 'bux before hopping on the A train. Life is back on track!

Tuesday, August 30, 2011


I am insane. Yes. That must be it. Insane.

I am standing in the middle of my bedroom wearing a tank top and boxer shorts, sipping wine, staring at my bed – where I have emptied half the contents of my wardrobe looking for an outfit, “the outfit” to wear when I meet Town and Country tomorrow. Oh my God? Really? Get a grip Desi Girl! This is not a date. You are going to transact the mighty (or not so mighty) greenback. This is business. You’d be better off wearing a habit or a snow mobile suit.

If I can quote Greg and Liz, “he’s just not that into you”. Desi Girl, you know what an interested man looks like, acts like, talks like, behaves like. Town and Country once behaved like that with you. So why are doing this to yourself? You know better. Don’t you think you deserve better? Deserve more? Why are you pining while trying to impress a man who so clearly does not notice you exist? Or perhaps he does notice I exist. However, I don’t want to “exist” in the way horizontal way he wants to exist with me. Ah see – I am not insane. I can be rational, right?

But – what if – what if – he is just busy, right now. And is reaching out slowly – to see if he can find a way to work me into his life (let’s ignore the fact that I am willing to be “worked” into someone’s life). I mean – sure – he does need help with his house. But he is a well-to-do businessman in Manhattan – I am sure SURE sure he knows high-end architects who could help him – rather than me – a faux architect. And just like that all my rational-ness is gone and replaced with hope.

I just wish I knew better than to believe in hope. I wish I knew now, not in two years, that hope was setting me up to fail. Hope had me constantly reaching for something that was always outside of my grasp. If I knew now, not in two years, that embracing faith would give me a solid base from which to keep moving. That faith, not hope, would set me free, give me a better day and make me stronger – I would be able to avoid the pain that is coming. Pain that I KNOW is coming. Yet for some reason I reach for the salt and sting the wound.

Monday, August 29, 2011


I am entering credit card information into the secure site for Home Depot. Soon I will be the proud owner of 8 fire extinguishers, that I will hand off to Town and Country and then I will collect my reimbursable expenses.

I grab my coffee cup and wander into the living room. A slow, but consistent summer rain has been falling for hours. And it is starting to drive me NUTS. I have things to do and I don’t need the rain literally raining on my agenda and dry cleanables.

I hear the computer ping. Email. I and the coffee mug go back to the computer and sit down at the desk.

Email from Town and Country:  I need smoke/carbon monoxide detectors. What do you recommend? I need 4 – one for each floor.

Sigh. This would have been nice to know BEFORE I purchased the fire extinguishers. But I am sure I can open a new cart and pick up both orders on Friday.

Email from Desi Girl: (I don’t feel like working) …. make it … stop raining …. It is making me NOT happy …

Immediately Email from Town and Country: …. that's gonna take me a should be good tomorrow

Email from Desi Girl: ... but I am cranky now! I cannot wait 'til tomorrow; my silk dress will be ruined today! :(

Email from Town and Country: …you should have told me yesterday.

Deeeeeep sigh. Why must he be charming? Why can’t he meet his silicone bride already and put me out of misery? Because I don’t think I am going to move on, until he moves. I know – it is pathetic, but it is the honest truth.

Sunday, August 28, 2011


I have divided the apartment into zones in order to pack without causing a self-induced Desi Girl anxiety attack – as I still have to get work done for work, I need to get price quotes for Town and Country’s fire extinguishers, and I have some work to get done for my new volunteer committee.

I have packed all the winter stuff – coats, sweaters, pants. I packed all the linens except two sets of sheets (okay – why do I have five sets of sheets for one bed? The maximum I would need is two, use one, wash one – I am quite the consumer and think I should address this behavior of mine – oh I know I will ship two sets of sheets to my mom. She has four queen sized beds in her house). I have decided to keep two sets of towels and will donate the other two to Goodwill. I am a single woman – four bath towels are MORE than enough. Half of the kitchen remains, as does the entire bathroom, toiletries and the biggie project living room.

My shoes (minus the 8 pairs I will wear for the next few weeks – black sandals, gold sandals, eggplant pumps because they go with everything, tennis shoes, two pairs of flip flops, tan open-toed flat slides, black loafers) are all in a box, labeled fragile – because they are. And if they don’t make it to the next apartment – I will die. Maybe I should label the box with something else – like if these go missing I will punch you. Hhhmm, that is not very threatening. I don’t know how to punch. I never know where the thumb goes.  Maybe when the movers come I can explain the importance to the box. Yes – I am sure three large men are going to care about my shoes. Or my handbags that still need to be packed.

What I still need to do is pick a neighborhood, find a broker and find a notary of the public. But I will do that after I get Town and Country’s fire extinguishers sorted out. First things, first.

I sit down at the computer and begin researching prices. Home Depot’s prices are higher than Lowe’s. However, Lowe’s wants $80 for a delivery charge. This is HIGHWAY robbery. And while I am sure Town and Country can afford it – I don’t think he should have to pay it on principle alone. So I pull eight fire extinguishers into the shopping basket and email Town and Country.

Email to Town and Country: Hey! I have the fire extinguishers, Home Depot on Third Avenue has a good prices and has 8 in stock. Do you want me to buy them and invoice you? I can put them on my credit card.

Email to Desi Girl: That would be great. I will write you a check when you drop them off. Can you come by the house on Friday? I want to get your opinion on the kitchen remodel.

Okay. Doesn’t he have an architect?

Email to Town and Country: Sure, Friday is fine. Any time before 9 am works for me. (The last thing I want to do is go over there “after hours” – I know I am playing with fire, at least I currently have enough sense not to get burned.)

Email to Desi Girl: How about 8 am – and track your hours so I can pay you then too.