And what’s been keeping me so darn busy? It’s all the boyfriend’s fault. He’s had some down time after his freakishly long business trip, see, and I had yet to “take time to enjoy being unemployed” as so many people have recommended I do, so for the last few days, he and I have enjoyed what my family has always called kitty days—the kinds of days where all you really do is follow sun spots around the house in search of a warm place to nap. In between all that lounging and not showering, though, we have accomplished a few things: We’ve watched quite a few episodes of The Mary Tyler Moore Show (including—finally!—the Veal Prince Orloff episode every gay man I know has gushed about for years), we’ve moved a few plants, we’ve had some cake, I helped a friend spell Auld Lang Syne and I opened an HSBC online savings account that will earn the proceeds from my condo sale a whopping 5.05% in interest until I need the money for the closing on my fabulous new Two-Bathroomed Barbie Dream Condo. (A helpful financial hint from Uncle Jake: 5.05%, for those of you who don’t pay attention to these things, is some seriously good interest. Unparalleled, actually—especially for a savings account with no minimum deposit or balance requirements. Open an account today. Dump all you can in it. Make your regular bank choke on the measly half-percent interest rate it wants to sell you.)
And while I’m on the topic of financial management. I also used a part of the proceeds from my condo to pay off my car. Because car interest—while not as hateful as credit-card interest—is still a pretty unproductive use of your money. So until my condo closes, I am now completely debt-free, aside from insurance and rent and COBRA and Botox and the storage of all my stuff until my fabulous new Two-Bathroomed Barbie Dream Condo is ready, of course.
Amid all this excitement, though, I’ve managed to cough up a few blogworthy accomplishments. For instance, the boyfriend and I have squeezed in two cultural events since Thursday: Camille Saint-Saëns’ mighty Organ Symphony (the dominant theme of which I believe was the inspiration for the opening chord progressions of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast score) at the CSO and the Steppenwolf’s disturbing The Pillowman, a Grand Guignol mixing dark, dark, dark, dark comedy with shocking plot twists reminiscent of The Sixth Sense.
I also attended the boyfriend’s niece’s christening on Sunday, which consisted of: wearing yet another suit and tie, charming his family, not talking with my mouth full, dancing skillfully around any discussion of whether I may or may not have a prison record, and posing for family pictures. And if that isn’t a testament to our long-term plans together, I don’t know what is. Except for maybe yesterday when he tentatively (because he very decidedly doesn’t like mine) showed me his china and stemware, which I ended up loving, so he and I are all clear to get married now. And you-all are going to have to scramble to find suitable gifts now since we won’t be registering for fancy dishes.
Otherwise, it’s been a low-key week. Except for that little part on Saturday morning where I ran a marathon. Saturday was the high (depending on how you look at it) point in our AIDS Marathon training: the full 26-mile training run. The day started out cold and rainy, but by the time we’d hit our first mile marker, it was sunny and lovely, and we had a great time—except for the part where we lost half our runners to injuries or fear of injuries. As always, Fearless Leader Matthew took some pix to share.
It’s now dark at 6:30 in the morning in Chicago. Which means summer is sadly over:
At mile 6, we were all smiley and happy, though not completely centered:
Ten miles later, still relatively smiley and happy, we posed for a semi-formal shot:
And two miles after that we took our last formal shot at a water station, where we ended up leaving two people so their aches and pains wouldn’t become injuries and debilitations:
The three remaining runners became pretty separated, but we all managed to cross the finish line. And since I came in dead last, my big finish got captured for posterity:
The AIDS Marathon organization gave us all medals on bright red ribbons, which clashed mightily with my deathly pallor:
Our group stretch was the least coordinated of the summer, as we all focused on our own personal aches and pains:
I was so weak after the run, the medal practically toppled me over. Or else maybe I felt the need to take a bow. In any case, I survived my run. And now all that’s left are a few 10-mile training runs and then the big day on October 22. And then next year’s goal: the Chicago and New York marathons back to back. Woo-hoo!
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