City Wendy

The Shining Light

Saturday was my first full shift at the coffee shop and though I didn't see any celebs at work, I did spot one at the restaurant Drew and I went to for dinner afterwards. Our favorite little Cuban restaurant is in the same neighborhood as the coffee shop, so Drew swung by and picked me up and we headed there for some steak sandwiches (iron!). It was at least 10 minutes before I realized that Dennis Quaid was sitting two tables down from us with his son (mom is Meg Ryan, who lives in the neighborhood). In typical New York fashion, everyone pretended not to notice him until he left the building and then the waitstaff tried in vein to name of all the movies he's been in.

If I thought that was a big deal, it was nothing compared to who we saw yesterday, which pretty much left me in a dizzying starstruck puddle. Drew and I were walking through the Upper West Side to run some errands and as we passed a movie theater, we noticed a bunch of black Escalades, limos and cops and knew something was up. There wasn't a red carpet or anything so we didn't think it was a premier — we just figured maybe Clinton and some friends decided to go to the movies or something. So we stood around for a few minutes hoping to get a peek at the big guy. And then just as we were getting a bit impatient and thinking about giving up and moving on, the side door opens and who walks out? Martin Scorsese! I caught just a brief glimpse of him before he ducked into the limo and drove off, but the white hair, the bushy brows, the black glasses, it was all so iconic and exciting to see in person. But what happened next trumped even that. There were still some Escalades and limos sitting there with their engines running, so we stuck around another couple minutes, and good thing we did. As Scorsese's limo pulls out of sight — en route to what I can only imagine was an awesome party — the side door to the theater swings open again and one by one, all of the Rolling Stones step out into the light and shuffle off to their respective cars, a blur of leather, silver rings, and feathered hair!! If there was ever a time I needed my camera, wished I'd thought to stuff it in my bag, that was it. Mick Jagger even looked straight at us and waved! Mick Jagger. And I just stood there and gaped because the magnitude of his star power and charisma is so overwhelming in person — 10 feet away, y'all — I couldn't even muster the mental alertness to lift my arm and make my hand wave back.

Anyway, I'm guessing they were all at the theater for a private screening of "Shine a Light," which opens this Friday. I can't wait to see it.

Six Months

Today marks six months since I moved to New York. I can hardly believe it's been that long — it seems like just a couple weeks ago I was quitting my job, selling my car, and packing my things to move. And now here it is six months later already just like that.

I met up with a couple of friends/former co-workers the other day who were in town for a conference. They told me it's odd that I've only been here six months, that it seems I so easily fit in here. But I think that's just the nature of New York. I think it's hard not to fit in here, and that's what I love about the city. My friends asked how I liked it here and I told them I love it, which is the truth, but in all honesty I don't think I've really taken advantage of living here as much as I could. Winter had as much to do with that than anything. I guess I just hibernate in the cold months even when I'm living in the city that never sleeps. Also, I've never been much of a planner. I'd rather do things on a whim, which for some reason seemed much easier to do in Chicago. I guess because things aren't so spread out there. And I could hop on my bike and get around most places that way and didn't have to bother with plotting my subway route. Also, most of my friends all lived in a half-mile radius of me, so it was always really easy to find company at the last minute to do things with. I'm starting to make some new friends here — and reconnect with old friends — but they're all so busy for one thing — God, it's like being constantly busy is a prerequisite  for living in New York — and far-flung, from New Jersey to Harlem, Queens to Brooklyn, and even out to the suburbs, which means if I want to have happy hour with one of them on Friday, we pretty much have to have it planned by Monday at the latest.

Anyway, now that it's getting warmer — oh, thank God! — I want to make an effort to get out more. Working mostly from home gives me the flexibility that I could start taking one day a week to explore. I've hardly spent any time on the Lower East Side or Brooklyn and I'd really like to start seeing more of those areas. I'm also ready to change my style a bit. Another thing working mostly from home does is it makes one very lazy about her appearance. I mean, I still shower and get dressed and put on a little make-up and fix my hair — I haven't totally fallen off the wagon of all that's decent and appropriate — but I do find myself alternating the same two pairs of jeans, a favorite hoodie, and a couple of long-sleeve t-shirts just about every day, which is, um, incredibly boring. I used to have fun picking out clothes and putting together outfits, but it seems these days I'm just dressing to be dressed and I'm losing all sense of fashion and style, which is terribly unfortunate since I live in arguably the best shopping city in the world. But sometimes when I go out and I see this amazing street fashion, I feel so utterly inferior, like I could never look as stylish and polished and pulled together, so I just don't even bother, when really, I ought to be taking all the fashion I see as inspiration and the permission to get a bit more daring with my style. I mean, that's the great thing about New York. You can basically walk around in whatever the hell you want — a tin foil suit, even — and no one's going to bat an eye.

So, in addition to getting out more and exploring and making dates with new friends to do fun stuff, I want to start putting a bit more effort into my attire, taking more fashion risks and stepping outside the boring, safe box of jeans, hoodies and sneakers every damn day. In that vein, I discovered the site Style Bytes the other day and holy shit does that girl know how to dress! I want her sense of style...and her thin frame that makes everything she wears look so fucking amazing. Anyway, combing through her archives and drooling over all her photos (seriously, check them out — they're amazing!) has inspired me to start doing more shopping in secondhand stores. Not only can you find such unique style-defining pieces, but it's all so cheap! Yesterday, I bought a vintage dress on eBay for 10 bucks and at the moment I'm contemplating a pair of never-worn Boho peep-toe leather shoes from the 70's for 15 dollars. So, here's the thing. Are any of you vintage shoppers? Can you point me to some good online retailers? And if you've got some recommendations for great NYC vintage shops, I'd love to hear them. I know of a handful, but I'm sure there are tons out there I don't know about.

So anyway, that's it. Reflecting back on this six-month anniversary, I feel so relieved things have worked out and I'm happy here and creating a good life for myself and with Drew. I still miss Chicago and have pangs of homesickness that get me all teary-eyed sometimes, but mostly I think I just mourn the passing of time and a period of my life that's over forever. The last two years I lived there were really the best — I was single and living life on my own terms and I made some great friends in that time whom I know I'll just treasure forever, but I miss seeing them as much as I want. And I miss the lake and I miss living more spontaneously. But I don't regret leaving. Not for a minute. New York just has so much to offer and I think I'd kind of out-grown the offerings of Chicago...or at least had gotten pretty bored with most of them. And God, the winters! No thanks.

So...as I move into the next stage of this transition (everyone says it takes a year to feel adjusted here, so I figure I'm halfway there!), I vow to take more advantage of all that's at my fingertips. After all, sometimes it feels like the whole world's right there.

Getting Better

I've been researching my symptoms exhaustively for the last couple of days and I can say with 99% certainty I know exactly what's wrong with me. The good news is the problem can be resolved fairly easily with medicine and supplements and I should be feeling better in a week to a month. I'll still go see a doctor just to have everything confirmed, but other than buying cute sale shoes and maybe moving to NYC, I don't recall feeling more right about anything else in recent years.

It's odd how the universe works sometimes. If it hadn't been for a TV show I'd seen recently, an article I read a few weeks ago, and a dream I had the other night, I'm not sure I'd have put all the pieces together. I've been feeling so shitty for so long and all this time, I thought my symptoms were just effects of anxiety, stress, getting older, birth control, something "funny" that I ate, and even Seasonal Affective Disorder. All these signs that something was wrong with me, I'd just brush off as no big deal, even though feeling like shit for a really long time? That's kind of a big deal. I'd even become an expert at blaming my symptoms on a lack of willpower. When the half-marathon training left me so drained and winded, I berated myself for not being able to keep up. Anyway, my point is I've been ill for awhile, and pushing myself to just move past it, like I could miraculously work or sweat it away. And now that I've finally faced that I have a problem, I'm going to get help and I'm going to get better. Just like that. So to all of you out there who are smug like I am about your health, who think just because you never get sick and that you eat well and take care of yourself means you're immune to everything, pay attention to your body when it feels off. It's probably trying to tell you something. I'm glad I finally listened to mine. 

Iron and Whine

I had a "duh" moment today that I think could very well save my life, and if not my life, than certainly my livelihood. For at least a couple of months now, I've been more exhausted than I remember ever feeling in my life, except maybe when I had mono in 10th grade, and I'm not even certain that was a more tiring experience. Despite getting 8, 9, and sometimes even 10 hours of sleep a night, I still wake up groggy, dragging myself out of bed only because I have work to do and can't just sleep until noon. Routinely, I find myself doing simple everyday tasks like washing dishes or grocery shopping and catching myself in the middle of these chores wishing I could just curl up in a ball and nap for awhile. I'm not even a napper, and I still slept for 2 hours in the middle of Sunday afternoon despite getting 9 hours of sleep the night before and Drew hammering and sawing away making a new cabinet in the bedroom.

Needless to say, I've been wondering what's wrong with me. First I thought it could be mild-grade depression, something I experience from time to time, as lot of people do. But I've been familiar enough with depression to understand there's a difference between that and what I'm feeling now. Unlike when I'm depressed, I have a desire to wake up, to socialize, to do things I enjoy — I just don't have the energy to do those things. And unlike depression, I don't feel sad or particularly anxious (not any more than usual, anyway), or like I could cry at the drop of a hat. I just feel. so. unbelievably. tired.

And then today the thought crossed my mind that I could have anemia, something I was diagnosed with years ago in college. And it was like a light bulb suddenly went off. Reading through a list of symptoms, I checked each thing off one by one. Reading a list of causes, I did the same. Extreme fatigue? Check. Cold hands and feet? Check! Not enough iron in my diet? Check, Check, Check. Endurance training? God, when I was still crazy enough to think I could run the half marathon, just getting dressed to train was fucking brutal. So. Now that I'm pretty sure I can self-diagnose the reason for my recent lack of energy, I'm really relieved. I've been beating myself up for weeks thinking I'm lazy or unmotivated and wondering why I can't just get my act together, why the littlest things wear me out so much when people twice my age and with 10 times my responsibilities and burdens seem to manage just fine.

I'm going to start taking a daily iron supplement with a glass of orange juice every day. I'm hoping I feel like my old self sooner rather than later...

Hmm...I wonder if the cats are anemic as well? It may explain all the sleeping.

Still Trying to Find Homes For:

So, Craigslist has been great, obvs., but I still have a couple things to unload. Pictures and details below. If you or someone you know might be interested, please shoot me an email. Merci!

Mahogony coffee table measures 54" x 30" and is 18" tall and I'm asking $150 for it. I purchased it at an antique store last year, but am not sure how old it is. It has some minor nicks and scuffs.

The vintage dinette set is 24" x 24" and is 30" tall and I'm asking $60. I'm pretty sure the set is from the 50's or 60's. It also has some minor nicks, but is in good condition overall.

Simple Pleasures

It's Easter Sunday and Drew and I had plans to have brunch this morning with our friend Matt and his boyfriend Ryan who were coming in from Chicago for the weekend. First by coincidence and then on purpose, Matt and I have had Easter brunch together for the last 4 or 5 years, so I was especially happy that he and Ryan chose this weekend to come visit. Unfortunately, Chicago didn't get the memo that it's spring now, and it dumped a shitload of snow on Friday resulting in the cancellation of their flight to New York. On a side note, can I just say, Oh my God, I'm so SO happy Drew and I no longer have to do that fucking cross-country commute to see one another anymore! Holy shit, that was for the birds. Every single time one of us had to catch a plane to see the other, my stomach twisted in knots. Would the flight be on time? Would our luggage make it? Would the weather hold out? In a year and a half, we each had so many delays I lost count and at least 5 flight cancellations between us. There were times I spent all day in the airport as my flight was pushed back hour after hour after hour only to have it cancelled finally at the end of the day. Oh, is there anything sadder than the extra 24-hours you have to wait to see the person you haven't seen in weeks? Is there anything worse than losing a whole day of being with him? I'm so glad we aren't long-distance anymore. So glad!

But I miss my friends and that's why I was so excited to see Matt and Ryan this week -- a little friend fix before I make my mid-spring trek to Chicago in May (I hope). But I guess it wasn't meant to be. Oh well, Drew and I made the most of the weekend, anyway. Friday night we headed out to Brooklyn for a raucous game of dominoes with a few friends and two humongo labradors. Seriously, there's nothing like the company of enormous dogs to make me appreciate how easy cats are. Nothing against big dogs -- they're quite nice and all, they just take up so much space! And they don't sit still for long. And when the pizza delivery guy comes, they bark so loudly, I swear, it's like the apacalypse is coming or something. Anyway, dominoes. Dudes, I kicked some serous ass at dominoes. If we'd been playing for money, I'd be filthy rich! I'd have enough money to cruise the South Pacific. I don't know what that means really, but it sounds expensive, and if we'd been playing for money Friday night, I could afford it! We also played darts and ate these awesome Kettle chips which I heartily recommend. And even though Drew and I are on a special diet I call "Lose the Ten Pounds We Packed on When We Moved in Together And Started Acting Like Every Day was Vacation Day," we are allowed to eat whatever we want on the weekends and since I invented the diet, the weekend starts at 4 PM on Fridays -- Awesome, no? -- so I got to eat all the Kettle chips I could stand Friday night, as well as drink all the beer I wanted when I had happy hour with Emily earlier in the day. Anyway, at dominoes night, someone asked, "Are you going to blawwg about this?" which I'm pretty sure was a thinly-veiled attempt to poke fun at all my dorky blogginess (bloggy dorkiness?), and yet, here I am blogging about it because that's what I do -- I blog about all the details of my life because if I don't, who will?

And then this morning Drew and I were at our brunch at one of my favorite places because not only is the food delish, but y'all, they have this brunch drink special where it's all you can drink for 8 dollars!!! I mean, that won't even buy you a single beer most places in Manhattan any night of the week and here at this place on a Weekend morning, you can have, like, 8 drinks for a dollar each. Or, if you're on a boring special diet where you're allowed to eat whatever you want on the weekends but really ought to keep it in check just a little, then 4 drinks for 2 dollars each, which is still a really good deal. And you know what made this morning's brunch even better than the drink special? Even better than making the first crack into the creme brulee we shared for dessert -- Oh God, is that one of life's simple pleasures or what? But better than all that was the sun, and having a window seat directly in it and getting so hot, my face flushed three shades pinker than normal -- or was that the 3rd Strawberry Bellini? It reminded me of that sort of hot you get at the beach when the sun's beating down on you so mercilessly and you just can't stand it a second longer and so you dive into the cool water and that moment -- that moment where you go from achingly hot to refreshingly cool is like one of the best moments in life. Except, I didn't have that moment at brunch today. I just had the hot and no cool, and that's ok, because after the cold, cold winter, hot was really the only thing I needed. That and a visit from my friends, but I suppose there's always next month. If Chicago ever decides to stop snowing, that is.

Evolution of Things

Since my stuff was delivered last Wednesday, I've unloaded quite a bit through Craigslist.
So far:

1. My TV, DVD Player, computer speakers and Drew's vacuum cleaner went to an African couple from Queens. When the husband bent over to pick up the TV, he accidently brushed my breast with the back of his hand. At least, I think it was an accident. He quickly mumbled "sorry," and I quickly responded, "'s'okay," and neither of us made eye contact again before he left.
2. A guy named Lorenzo bought my wireless router and modem. He came all the way to the apartment, rang our doorbell and then ran off. When I called his cell phone to ask what was up, he said he'd forgotten to get cash and had to hit the ATM.
3. We gave away Drew's bed to a young, artsy couple who looked a little dirty, but seemed sweet enough. I offered the girl some free pillows and she said I was "very kind." I felt like I ought to offer her a glass of milk, some cookies, and a hot shower as well.
4. A Mexican guy took 40 fish bowls off Drew's hands (don't ask) for free and said they were for his wife and "her crafts." I asked Drew if he'd ever go over to some random person's house after work sometime and pick up 40 of anything for me and he said he would, which is, you know, good to know.
5. A guy in his 50's who had a diamond stud in one ear and the largest hands I've ever seen took a bunch of lumber from Drew. He drove a Volvo station wagon that he gave me the keys to and asked me to stand in front of to make sure it didn't get ticketed as he carried the lumber out. I made a joke about how I wouldn't drive off with it, but he didn't seem to hear me. He said he was building kitchen cabinets for his mother.
6. A short, chubby guy with gray-ish hair and a too-small Daffy Duck t-shirt bought my Thai artwork and Drew's sewing machine. He came at 10 at night because that's what time his wife was getting off work at a near-by hotel and he wanted to pick her up after swinging by our place. When he saw the artwork, he cocked his head to the side, held the frames out in front of him and said, "Yep, that's Thai, alright." And then he launched into a 15-minute story about his travels through Southeast Asia and how he almost got arrested in Malaysia.
7. A Russian dude in his late 20's or early 30's named Ivan bought my office chair. He said he'd broken his the day before and thought mine looked pretty comfortable. He planned to carry it onto the subway and we joked about how it'd be the best seat on the train. He emailed me about two hours after he left and thanked me for the chair and said his ride was "weeeeeeeeeee."
8. A guy from Belgium bought my bamboo blinds. He said he'd just moved into an apartment on 33rd street that was flooded with light all day long. He hoped the blinds would keep some of it out. I said I wished there was a way I could let more of it in.
9. A guy we called Joe College took Drew's 8-year-old air conditioner. He was wearing baggy cords, leather flip-flops and a backwards cap over tussled hair and looked like anyone I might have known 12 years ago back in Missouri.
10. A fashion photographer for Vogue sent over his assistant yesterday evening to pick up my wood folding chairs. She was pretty high maintenance about very carefully checking them over and then having me bag each chair in a large garbage bag and wrap masking tape around the handles so she could carry them in the rain and then onto the subway. She asked if I was moving in or moving out and when I told her I was moving in with my boyfriend, she said, "You're not planning on staying here, are you?" And then I told her that no, we were actually moving into a penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side with a dishwasher, skylights, and a jacuzzi.
11. In a few days, someone from the Brooklyn Children's Museum is coming to pick up my desk and little leather chair to use in an exhibit! And that still leaves just a few pieces of furniture and some odds and ends I need to find homes for.

Our apartment is finally starting to feel normal again. I actually have dresser drawers now to put my underwear in (so civilized!), and some lamps to brighten the dark corners that have always bugged me. I re-did the refrigerator display with some of my photos and have hung a bunch of my artwork on the walls, so it's feeling more like I really live here and not like I'm just camping out. Six months after I moved here, I'm starting to make a home for myself.

Guilty Pleasure

In the last week, we've had close to 15 people from Craigslist drop my the apartment and give us money for stuff we don't want anymore, which is so awesome. Not only has it been an interesting sort of anthropological study, it's also been great to have cold hard cash in my hands sicne I've been without a debit card since my freak-out at the bank last Tuesday. But I just got my new card in the mail today, so all's well that ends well, I guess. Although, it's not entirely. First, I still have to update all my auto-payments with the new number and then there's the little issue of not exactly having a bank account that's over-flowing. I mean, freelance writing from home is great and all (I don't have to shower until 11! I don't have to quickly close my browser to hide Perez Hilton when the boss suddenly walks by! I can drink beer at 1! What? Don't judge.), but it means sacrificing a little. Like, I don't get professional massages anymore. I know, so sad!

But don't worry, I've got a plan. I'm starting another little part-time gig this coming week. I'm going to work in a friend's coffee shop in Soho (or, as I like to call it, so horrible...but it's really the other side fo the neighborhood that I find so offensive). That's right, starting in just a few days, a couple afternoons a week, I'll be mixing up lattes and serving up sandwiches and what have you at a local coffee shop, and not at just any old coffee shop, oh no. This is the coffee shop of celebrities. Daniel Day Lewis comes by regularly, and Chris Robinson, Kate Hudson and Jim from The Office have all been in a few times. And last week? None other than Bill Clinton himself. So hopefully, while I'm making a little extra cash to buy cute clothes and fund my trip to China this summer, I'll get a few stories at the same time. Stay tuned!

In other news, a new season of The Bachelor starts tonight and I'm really excited to have one more guilty pleasure in my life again. Somehow, the not showering until 11 and drinking beer at 1 just isn't enough. What?? I said, don't judge!

A Thousand Years in one Piece

I have this friend who's always just about to pick up his life and move somewhere new. One month it's Seattle, the next it's Asheville, North Carolina, or Vermont or New Zealand. Nevermind that he's lived in Chicago for ten years and seems on track to easily be there another ten more, in his mind he's still always just about to move somewhere new. In a way, I have to kind of admire his ability to keep dreaming with such determination despite the conventions of his stable life. I guess it keeps things interesting, and certainly in the middle of a Chicago winter, it might be one of the few things that keeps him waking up morning after morning to face the bitter cold and dreary skies.

When I was visiting him a few weeks ago he was telling me about his new fantasy of picking up and moving to San Francisco, which isn't so much a "new" fantasy as just an old one newly recycled.
"Where do you see yourself moving ?" He asked me, which sort of caught me off-guard.
"Well, I just moved, silly!" I answered.
"Yeah, but next," he said, " Where do you think you'll move next?"
"I think I'm probably staying in New York," I replied, rather matter-of-factly.
"Really?!" he said, surprised by my response.
"Well, yeah," I said. "I mean, I don't see Drew leaving anytime soon...or ever, really. He grew up there. His family's there. If I'm going to be with him, I think New York is where we're going to stay."
"Huh," my friend said.
"Huh?" I echoed.
"You don't think you'll ever move again?"
"I doubt it. Not as long as I'm with Drew." I said.

And then it really hit me: this could be it. I might never live anywhere else. And the realization is all at once liberating and scary and exciting and sad and...well, everything. Drew and I have been talking about when we might like to start making babies and all that and though I know my grandmother is convinced I'm going to live in sin forever, I think marriage is probably on the horizon somewhere, though neither of us is particularly in a hurry to get legal and all that biznass...especially since we're both freelancers and don't have the holy grail of company-provided health insurance to sweeten the proposition (and really, besides that and wedding gifts, what's the point of getting hitched?).

At any rate, my stuff arrived safely from storage on Wednesday morning and Drew's apartment is finally starting to feel more like "our apartment." It's still filled to the brim with...well, stuff. We have two of a lot of things: two coffee tables, two desks, two desk chairs, two TVs, two DVD players, and on and on. Obviously, we'll be making decisions about what to keep and what to get rid of (to keep: Drew's ridiculously big HDTV. To get rid of: his framed picture--in the bathroom--of Louis Armstrong on the crapper) and sooner rather than later, I hope our apartment will be beautiful mesh of all our things (minus louis on the john) and our individual aesthetics--a representation of this life we're creating together. Here in New York. Where we will probably stay forever.

See, I just don't see Drew ever leaving New York. This is where he was born, where he grew up, where he's lived his entire life. Leaving it would be like leaving a limb behind, it's so much a part of him. I knew all that moving here--it's what made the move to New York an especially big deal for me, and maybe what  contributed to my freak-out/anxiety attack the other day. Because I know as long as I'm with Drew, I probably won't be moving anywhere else. It's like, my cats and I are a packaged deal--anyone who dates me, sort of has to date all three of us. And Drew and New York are a packaged deal.

Luckily, Drew loves my cats. And I love New York. But I'd be lying if part of me doesn't wonder if maybe I won't always love New York, or if I'll itch for a change eventually--if one day I'll wake up and just like my friend, start fantasizing about picking up and moving somewhere new. That's the part that's really scary to me, not the part about raising a family in New York City. God, that seems easy in comparison. It's the idea that one day I won't want to be here anymore--after all, I grew up moving around...what if being a nomad is as much a part of me as NYC is a part of Drew, that I simply can't stay put in one city for the rest of my life. My fear of commitment isn't so much about being with one person forever, its about being in one place forever. And I'm just not sure how to negotiate that fear. Maybe it's something that goes away in time. Or maybe it's just something that keeps me on my toes, always taking steps to move my life moving forward, to stave off complacency.

At any rate, it's not something I have to figure out today. But it's there--on my radar, in the back of my mind. It's the lens through which I view New York, actually. "Can I live with this forever?" I ask myself all the time. Obviously, when it comes to framed photos of musicians taking a crap, the answer's easy. If only everything were so clear.

Still Crazy After all these Years

While withdrawing some cash this afternoon to tip the movers tomorrow morning, I noticed that my bank account had suddenly shrunk in size quite a bit overnight. Alarmed, I went inside the bank and told a teller I wanted to double-check the amount in my account. She took my name and account # and said, "You have [very small amount] in your account."

"But that can't be," I said. "I just checked it yesterday and I had [still a small amount, but decidedly more than I have today and definitely enough to pay the moving company tomorrow]."

She went on to tell me that two debit card purchases had been made early this morning for pretty big amounts of money.

"Those aren't mine!" I said, freaking out, "I didn't make those purchases!!"

"Did you make any purchases after 5 last night?" she asked.

"No!" I said, "I haven't made any purchases in the last week except for $80 in groceries! And maybe some lipgloss, but come on, a girl needs her lipgloss."

"Well, there were two purchases made with your card sometime between 5 PM last night and noon today," the teller replied.

Suddenly realizing that my identity was probably stolen--or at least my debit card number--I turned white as a sheet and started hyperventilating.

"Oh my god!" I wailed, "Someone has definitely stolen my identity! I cannot believe this is happening. Someone has stolen my identity and is charging up all my cards. Oh my God!"

"Don't worry, calm down, it's going to be okay," the teller said. "This happens. We'll put a freeze on your account and we'll close the card. You can dispute the payments from this morning and file a report with the police. It'll be okay."

"I'm going to be sick," I replied, "I have to go home and be sick."

My apartment is just half a block from the bank, so I ran home, threw up, splashed cold water on my face and went back to the bank. The teller closed my card and put a freeze on my account and again told me everything would be fine and I needed to just calm down.

"But I'm not going to have any money to pay the movers tomorrow now!" I told the teller, "I don't know what to do. If there's a freeze on my account and I can't get into it and there's hardly any money in there now anyway, what am I going to do? They won't give me my stuff! I need my stuff! I've been without it for almost 6 months."

Then it dawned on me. I'd already paid the movers. I gave them my card number last week. Those two transactions from my account this morning? One had to be for storage and the other was for the move. I hadn't realized they were going to process the payment before they delivered my things so when I saw a shrunken bank account, I freaked out. And by "freaked out," I mean I closed my card, froze my account, claimed identity theft, and threw up. Because my bank account was so small.

You know how I was so embarrassed the other day when I had to ask a stranger where the Dance Dance Party Party room was? Yeah, DOES NOT EVEN COMPARE.