tales of a girl in the city

mars 01, 2005


I am down to bone.

I've worked my tv job, and my real estate job nearly every single day this month. My "days off" have been spent traveling for the show--five a.m. wake-up calls to get aboard Amtrak's 6:50 train. We filmed the final episodes of the show last week, finishing on Saturday with a five hour trip back to the production office. And then it was on to a last-minute bus bound for Manhattan; my real estate boss had called and demanded I come in on Sunday, which meant arriving in NYC at 4 a.m., heading out to Brooklyn to catch precious hours of sleep, and then a full day at the office on Sunday. Being nice. Appeasing. Mending fences. Selling penthouses. Dreary and bleary. And used up.

So what I need now is a pillow, and a good listener. I need a massage, a facial, and something to rejuvinate the reserves I've been drawing on for the last 45 days. Dirty martinis, maybe? Crack? And a good book. I need a fireplace. A sauna. A long stretch. A bowl of penne with cream sauce and a glass of good wine. I need a purr. I need spoiling. Hot bath. Something that smells of lavender. Something that cools and soothes and calms and whispers repeatedly, "It will be worth it. It is already worth it. Congratulations. You should be proud of where you've gotten to."