I've been able to get up at 7 a.m. the past two days. That's really unusual for me. It means I've managed to get to work before 10 a.m., a kind of daylight I rarely see these days.
I walked to work kind of happy today, another new experience. Good things are happening. I think I've learned to appreciate them.
Still, I left work really late - 8:40 p.m. - and when I was walking down Bleecker to catch a cab, some really strange guy who was like a fat Truman Capote with a huge belly and a Walkman looked at me and shouted over his own music, "Oooh! Rockin' the legs with the brunette! Yeeeooooh!" I knew there was something magical about my dress today.
It was my cab driver's first day on the job ever and he didn't know how to get from MacDougal and Bleecker to Varick and Canal so I had to guide him turn-by-turn. Once we got on Varick, he started careening down the road. As I grabbed onto the backseat strap, he said in a thick Russian accent, "You like my driving? In my country, I was a race car driver!"
I laughed and then we both turned serious. I said, "Uh, really? Because if you say yes I'll totally believe you." He nodded emphatically and said, "Oh yes, back in Russia..."
He dropped me off at Tribeca Cinemas for Naked Angels, where I got a good up-and-down by the handsome gay organizer and a lot of eye contact from the female writer who cast me in her play. Love this dress.
I'm getting to bed about an hour late tonight so maybe I'll get up at like 8 tomorrow if I'm lucky.