Last night I dreamt that I was going to Paris for the weekend. In the dream, I was invited, discovered that my passport was valid, became delirious with excitement, planned in geeked-out detail what we were going to try to cram into a weekend, experienced more delirious joy and…woke up.
Realizing that one is not, in fact, going to Paris for the weekend like a total baller is a bit of a downer at 6am. But, fortunately, Charlotte has given me something to live for.
My dear friend Charlotte has had one fabulously glamorous job after another since college, all of which look smashing on a resume and none of which have allowed her to live within normal business hours. A small price to pay, for sure, but it also means that she has always been unacceptably hard to hang out with. A two-hour commute, one-way, will suck the life out of you. As will a full 8 hour shift that starts at 2am.
One requires more than zero Charlotte in one’s life. So it’s been a little difficult to appreciate her killer career.
The madness is over! Charlotte has landed her dream job, with a great org, a glamorous title, familial environment…IN town and with regular hours. One or two of these would’ve warranted a visit with some celebration. All of it together demands a visit with celebration.
Excitement for the weekend was instantly restored.
(I also dreamed that I was watching a bunch of bounty hunters round up Vietnam draft-dodgers just shy of the Canadian border. I blame that on last night’s yummy delicious dinner).