I turned 26 this month, and then promptly fell into a huge, metaphorical, hole in the ground. I much prefer sitting on my couch with a bottle of cheap wine and my dog, to any human interaction. If I have been ignoring your phone calls it is because I am in the midst of a huge, molly-pity-party and cannot be bothered with trivial earthly matters when I am contemplating the inner workings of my being.
I spent the epic birthday pulling individual blades of grass out of a millionaire's juniper. One at a time, for an 8 hour shift. This is not my idea of a good time. Said millionaire lives on a beautiful lake, on a huge, immaculately landscaped property. The lawn stretches for acres and takes a crew of three guys, three days to mow. Every tree on the property grows arrow straight, and flowers bloom at appropriate times for holiday parties. Each building on the property is surrounded by lush beds of juniper.... filled with fucking grass.
As I sat there, spending my birthday fluffing the juniper back to its proper height, and filling a five gallon bucket with grass blades, I watched as the millionaire floated casually around his lavish pool. Its free, form shape allowed him to float across, spurred by the current of not one, but two waterfalls, for several long minutes before he reached the opposite side of the pool. Sitting there in the shade of a weeping cherry tree was his ice bucket, bottle of chilled champagne and orange juice. The tray held a variety of pastries, and a pile of juicy strawberries. He would lounge there for a moment, sip his cocktail and nibble on the sweet treats laid out for him by the darling little maid, Pilar. (Pilar hates him and frequently can be heard praying to Mary that the "old, bastard drowns", but that's a story for another day).
It was in that moment, standing in the 90 degree heat, weeding someone else's flower beds that the realization came to me. I had a true epiphany.
My life sucks.