A Cabin Fever of 108

February 13, 2010

My sister Lirbs is in medical school, so I can ask her all kinds of really great questions such as: “At what temperature does the human brain die?” The answer is around 107 or 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Well, let me tell you, prior to yesterday, I was running a cabin fever that was just about to reach 108 because I’m pretty sure my brain was quickly approaching its melting point. What happened yesterday? I left the house. For more than a few hours. As my other sister Gerbie would say, “Go big or go home,” so I went big and went all the way to New York City with Dave, Geebs, Zoë and the most neurotic dog in the world, Heidi. We loaded up the minivan and made the trek all the way to Brian’s apartment in Astoria.

There were only a few moments when the thought of forking out my own eyes seemed preferably to my current situation. Mostly just in the traffic around the George Washington Bridge, but we made it through, and here we are back in Astoria. It kind of feels like I’ve just been on a really long vacation.

At the moment, Brian and Scarlett are taking a midmorning nap, and I seized (nearly strangled) the opportunity to take a long shower and actually put on make-up, which is a novelty these days. I was all ready to sterilize my pump and make a bottle for later when I discovered that my amazing microwave sterilizer doesn’t fit in Brian’s New York City-sized microwave. I couldn’t find a pot in which to boil way the old-fashioned way either. Oops. I guess it’s all boob, all day. Oh, well.

Zoë is snuggled up next to me on the squeaky pink armchair that Brian and I got in North Carolina; the very same chair that matches the dirty, stinky ottoman that she claimed for her own and uses to get on and off of the bed. Zoë will be getting a pedicure and bath today, probably much to her dismay. I too will be getting my hair done at a lovely salon in Astoria. Later tonight, we are headed to Harlem to the Armory to see Gerbs compete for Wake Forest. She throws really heavy things really far. She’s badass. It’s shaping up to be a pretty nice little Saturday.

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