At the amusement park, we paid an exorbitant parking fee ($12), then trolled around for a parking spot. I started fake crying from frustration and my friend very sensibly pointed out that we could park in one of those not-quite-a-spot parking spots, since Sissy's car is tiny. Problem solved. We hopped on the tram, and took in the sights.
New problem - everybody and their mama was there. Total, we rode 5 roller-coasters; we even bought the key chain for our pic in the last one b/c it was that good. Then we did the chocolate world singing cow ride, bought souvenirs, and left. Not 1 mile from the park, I got a Dunkin' Donuts coffee because I was in that tricky mental state when I'm deliriously tired and not quite awake, but jittery with excitement, and able to hold silly conversations and coherently sing along to the radio. We blasted said radio on the way back. I filled up the borrowed car as thanks, dropped off my friend, went home, and sat down to watch a Mean Girls rerun.
Sunday morning, I woke up at 6:51am. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I read Llewellyn's How Green Was My Valley until I got bored, then ate breakfast and went for a run. On the way home, I heard a Pink song (she's from Philly and has a concert coming up, so all I hear are Pink songs these days). Started crying, just like 4 tears, the pretty kind. Went inside to unlace my running shoes (the new ones - they felt fine, thankfully), and started crying for real. Not the pretty kind. I think it's best to let it out, so I did, but the gasping, can't really breathe, hunched over in a protective position crying is traumatizing. If I can help it, I will never see Bud again.
I still wasn't right on Monday. Stayed in bed until past noon finishing How Green Was My Valley. I think the book is a bit wise, but I won't see the movie. I tried to name a character Ivor once - had no clue that was Welsh. And in middle school I named a character Cadwallader. Le cringe.
I was okay today since I had to go into my old job for a few hours. I told the security guard that the street smelled like bacon. Fabulous fabulous bacon. He didn't believe me, but on my way out told me it was true, and the smell was fabulous. So I think I've climbed out of the pit of despair once again. It poured all day, so I didn't run, but I'll run tomorrow. I just hope I feel good after and not crappy like the last two times.
If it doesn't rain on Sunday, I'm running another trail 5K with two of my friends from high school. I can get excited about this.