Glitches

How was your New Year ringing-in?

I had a blast. Then I hit that drinking zone where it all goes down like water. I have a vague recollection of downing a glass of champagne in one shot because someone needed an empty glass (I was going to wash it), and then not knowing where the extra champagne glass (it was really a martini glass) came from. Not too long after, that hit me... or maybe it was the 4 or 5 gin martini (min 3oz each) variations, or the other glasses of champagne, or whatever else I may have drank.

Naw, it was the downed glass.

I'm not sure how long I was in the washroom before someone came to rescue me, but it was too long to be considered polite on my part. Granted, it was dry heaves, and I'm very courteous when misusing a friend's facilities. One well-placed comment had me up on my feet and on the couch with water in-hand, beginning my recovery.

I don't remember how the light saber got to someone else, but they needed it.

My very bestest friend got me home, fed my cats so they wouldn't eat me in my sleep, and left me to my own devices, which at this point were starting to click back into place. Combined with some pre-departure prep (close the blinds now, turn off the alarms, make sure there's plenty of water in the Brita, etc.) I might have seemed relatively capable when I poured myself under the covers.

Later in that first day of 2010, I was even able to stumble around and drag a brush across my teeth, pour a pint glass full of water, and toast up a bagel. Granted, I had the cream cheese half on before I realized I hadn't yet toasted the frozen thing.

It took 3 hours to eat that bagel, between naps and lying down to fight off the nausea. But the NHL Winter Classic looked pretty awesome at Fenway Park in HD. Shame they couldn't get the fans closer. But when the sun was setting and the players' shadows were cast across the ice, it reminded me of my childhood days on frozen lakes. You know, if I lived near a lake, it froze, and I could skate, none of which would be true. Still, the imagery was strong enough that some Canadian genetic memory must have kicked in.

After around 11pm, and many hours of extra sleep, I was able to stay upright for extended periods of time. So I stayed up until 4am or so. I even enjoyed some homemade chai tea that previously mentioned bestest friend made me for Christmas. Of course, I forgot the tea part, but the chai part was awesome.

Saturday was nearly normal. Up at the crack of 1:30pm, and plans for a "Not New Years" party that evening. I lazed about for a few hours, watched the latest Doctor Who special, and felt sad that David Tennant was leaving.

Off to the party, which started off like we were a group of strangers trying to make small talk instead of friends who had known each other for, in some cases, nearly 20 years. Eventually though, once the kid went to bed (5 is an odd age, do we have to start watching our language now? What topics can she begin to understand? Do her parents care?), conversation picked up as normal.

I got home around 3:30am, and hit my floor button on the elevator. I'm sure I did. I was stone sober, and not that tired. I hit the right floor.

The door opened, I walked out and noticed that my neighbours had a wreath on their door. Odd that I hadn't noticed it before.

I walked to my door, and there was a Santa hanging on my door. I *KNOW* I didn't have one of those, and my first thought was "Did someone randomly put up Christmas decorations on people's doors?" Then I looked at the number. I was one floor too high. No... I knew I hit the right number. I'm a creature of habit and never go to that number floor anywhere.

So I walked back to the elevators and hit the down button. The light turned off, and the door opened.

Except it didn't.

It sounded like it opened, and the button reacted like it opened, but the door was still closed. I hit the button again. The light turned off and the door opened.

Except it didn't.

I touched the door to make sure I wasn't insane. Nope, it wasn't open. Only the inner door of the elevator was opening, but the outer one wasn't catching.

Busted elevator.

But you know that chill down your spine when things aren't right? I had that. My head went to that "maybe you're dreaming" state of feeling. I hit the button again. Nada.

So I walked to the stairwell and cautiously opened the door, half-expecting a deranged madman to be waiting for me, hook for hand and teeth gnashing. But the stairs were empty. I quickly walked down a floor and turned to my door. Double-checked the number and walked in, where I was greeted by my cats.

So at least I knew I was home. But the haze in my brain remained. I chalked it up to my odd hours, fed the cats, and crawled into bed.

Up at the crack of 3:30pm Sunday, I was still a bit off-kilter. It was dad's birthday, so I had places to be in a few hours. I managed to waste more time than I had playing games and futzing with some new Photoshop plugins, and neglected to do minor things like eat or drink.

This might have contributed to the feeling of disconnect I was experiencing, and the sense of needing more sleep despite getting a dozen hours of the stuff.

Night was uneventful, except I forgot gifts again, but remembered butter. Home, waste time until 3am, try to sleep, alarms go off, and I'm strangely tired for only 4 hours of sleep (note: not strange). Up, out, and the subway announcement experiencing a Doppler Effect reminded me that 2010 is going to be a little bit odd. Maybe they're trying to make contact already...