The Funeral

Sweet lookin' car on Hollywood Blvd

Oh, hello Jillian Michaels. Long time no see. I forgot Mike packed her yoga dvd. All my other ones are home. It always seems like she’s really talking to me – or yelling at me. I love it. I sweat more than usual. It’s obviously been too long.

Mike and I go to pick up paper towels, swiffer sheets, and toothpaste. Where should we go? “Ralph’s. Ralph’s has everything.” True. While there, I realize we should get some wine since we’re going over Tara’s tomorrow night. Got a text from her earlier. “If you guys want to come over tomorrow night I’ll order some pizzas and get some wine. Bring bathing suit. …to get outta the house and not spend money. ” God, what an amazing text. There is nothing else I’d rather do, Tara.

I can’t get used to wine in the grocery store. I turn down the aisle and can’t help but smile – always a pleasant surprise. Any onlooker must think I’m an alcoholic. They’re running a special: buy 6 bottles of wine, get 30% off. That’s less than $6 a bottle. Can’t beat it! Maybe I am an alcoholic. Don’t judge.

I head to Lilly’s and realize I have a missed call from Cabo Cantina – a restaurant I applied to and can’t even remember where it is or what it looks like. They want to interview me. I don’t know. I’m already working and the days I’m not, Mike has the car for his internship, so it will be hard to set something up. It’s decent at Lilly’s tonight. Nothing too crazy but I’m steady the whole time. Tropez has me do last call at 11:30. Can’t get used to it. Neither can the customers, it seems. Get home around 12:45 and it’s pitch black downstairs. Sonny and Jen are sleeping. Mike and Troy are upstairs, sleeping. I hate having to tip-toe around but I’ve always worked nights. My schedule always seems to be the opposite of…everyone in the world. At least, that’s what it feels like. I heat up a bowl of rice and have to turn the light on because last thing I want is to be surprised by a roach. I’m not, thankfully.

Head up to bed but of course, can’t sleep. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I think about a person’s funeral. I don’t know. Sometimes it’s mine, or a family member’s, or a friend’s. Tonight it’s Mike. It’s a horrible thing to think about but for some reason it happens and then I can’t stop thinking about it. Some tears are shed and I cuddle up closer to an unconscious Michael. I finally drift into uneasy dreams of roaches in my bed.

*Band of Horses

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