I’ve been very sleepy this week. Today after work, I tried to take a nap, but I kept thinking about cheesecake. I really wanted to get out of bed for cheesecake. Not that I had cheesecake or a supplier nearby to hook me up with cheesecake, but I wanted cheesecake.
So I got some clothes on and went to Dominicks and didn’t buy cheesecake. I picked up some PMS supplies, even though I’m not having PMS right now. By that I mean Dr. Pepper, Snickers, magazines. I grabbed The Atlantic with an expose on Arafat and O magazine.
This afternoon was the company outing on the beach. I walked there without an umbrella. It didn’t seem like it would rain, but by the time I got to the beach I was drenched. My sweatshirt was like a second skin and my flip flops were like a Slip N Slide. A lot dangerous.
I got in line for food and realized that kosher options were few and far between. First item: Mini crab cakes. Second: Chicken & cheese enchiladas. Third: Burgers! But after I got the burger, I couldn’t get the salad because it was ceaser salad, covered in Parmasean cheese. Damn, everything looked good, but I’m past the point of saying, “Today isn’t a kosher day.”
Well, that isn’t true. I did break down and have a milanesa sandwich a few weeks ago and I do have my chicken pot pie. But I will make exceptions to the laws of kashrut when joy is involved. A company picnic when you have only been there two months isn’t quite joyful. It is realizing that you are an admin and you’re sitting at the admin table. It is being super-responsible with your alcohol consumption, cause you don’t want to be That Girl. Not this summer, anyway.
The band was good, the sun came out, the waves were good to watch. I had some good company and left before five. Now I’m tired and have laundry to finish and dishes that I started to wash three days ago and never did. Bad Leah, bad, bad Leah.
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