12/19/00: A Random Person on The Couch
I woke up on the loveseat. Someone was doing something in another room. The kitchen. There was a smell of coffee. I was cold. I felt surrounded by the smell of smoke and man's sweat. I looked down at myself. I was still wearing last night's red dress, and over it, a man's sweater. Oh. The man to whom the sweater belonged was in another room, and his cute accent was, presumably, asleep with him.
Maria came in. "Hi, sweetheart," she said, most likely because she didn't remember my name, which is totally understandable, as she met me only briefly on a night when she was exhausted and drunk. And she still let me sleep on her couch. "Are you cold? Let me get you a blanket," she said, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, she was putting a comforter on me. "I made coffee," she said. "I have to go, but the coffee should still be warm when you get up. You can eat anything you want, take a shower, whatever you want to do."
"Okay," I said. "Bye," I said. "Thank you for everything."
"Bye, sweetheart," she said. I wanted to tell her it was okay that she wasn't sure of my name. But I thought it politic to refrain.
I took a moment to struggle out of the sweater and fold it neatly. Last night we were sitting in the living room, me and Mel and that guy, and I put on his sweater, and he gave me his bomber jacket and scarf, too. I wasn't going to sleep in the sweater but I was cold. Also, I guess those two gin and tonics really knocked me off my ass. In fact, even by morning, I had yet to get back on my ass. At that moment, I wasn't entirely sure where my ass was. So I just lay on it, and debated the relative merits of puking and not puking.
I think I had just decided on the latter when a roommate of some type came in. That was Lizzie, I later found out. I said, "Hi," and she seemed slightly surprised but certainly not astonished to see me. She said hi. I said, "I'm a random person on your couch," and certainly, she could not disagree. I thought about asking her if our racous laughter the previous night -- if you'd call 5:30 a.m. "night" -- had woken her up. But I was afraid she would say it had. She readied herself for some gainful persuit, and left the apartment.
I took some personal time to consider the movement of the clouds in the window. Then I took a shower. The shower is my favorite part of waking up in a strange apartment, because it's all new all different shampoos and body washes. Yummy grapey smells and freesia and super conditioner and other nifty things. Each of the three times I washed my hair I used a new shampoo. I think I got most of the smoke out. I regreted washing the last of my make up down the drain, as I didn't bring much make up with me, and it would be nice not to look like shit in front of the cute Irish man, even if I am friends with two of his girlfriends. I had, of course, my bag filled with free samples and a toothbrush, which I always bring with me to prepare for a Friday adventure. Which was a comfort. No clean towels. But I had my toothbrush.
By the time I was back in my dirty clothes, my hair only damp, Mel had woken up. While she was cleaning up, I chatted with the Irish man in the living room. I said I was going to keep his bomber jacket. I tried to get him to do a good American accent, but he could only make his voice deeper, or change his intonition. He would alternate between sounding like Space Ghost and sounding like Peter Brady. He said my Irish accent was shite. I've heard that before.
It took a while, but we went out for breakfast. Mel is one of my new favorite people. And that Irish man is very annoying, and very attractive and charming. He knows this. So it was an amusing morning. Getting about a pot of coffee into my system made me feel better.
I slept all day that day. Good to know I spent it wisely.