The Pity Party

I promise not to make a habit of the pity party, but I threw a grand one this evening! I figured there was probably a Fête de Something today in France, so I'd have a genuine Fête de Lamenter for myself, sans parades (I wouldn't want to be showy) and face-paintings.

Seems I've been having a problem with Saturdays lately. I do know when it started but I don't know when it started bothering me. I guess recently? I used to always be booked for Saturdays, sometimes many in advance, then something happened and my usual Saturday is now someone else's usual Saturday. That detail doesn't bother me in the slightest, but the fact that I've failed to fill up my Saturdays bothers me a great deal. Sure, I find stuff to do during the day and will occasionally fill my early evenings as well but then I inevitably end up at home inexcusably early and settle in for a book or an old movie (or in tonight's case 4 old movies) and dinner. Alone.

I think this is making me prematurely old as I frequently joke about being middle-aged but that is far from true. But a frumpy, middle-aged old maid would have had almost the exact same evening I had tonight, I'm sure of it. I was out of coffee cream so I ran up to the store around 8 and thought I would make a bread pudding for no reason other than a craving for it. I had just watched Vertigo on TV and left in the middle of Fanny with Leslie Caron, Maurice Chevalier and Charles Boyer. At Whole Foods, I pick up the necessary groceries and a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau (en plastique? The marketing sold this as "guilt-free" drinking with a reduced carbon footprint. Somehow I think no one has ever said "I feel so guilty for this carbon footprint" after uncorking a glass bottle of wine - at least no one in France.)

I overheard a French family at the store and almost said something but changed my mind. I took one look at the young (20-ish?) man who looked as blasé as me and thought I'd leave them be. So, home to an empty house, culinary masterpiece in the oven, Beaujolais Nouveau uncorked (or unscrewed as it were) and another old movie on. Too bad I don't knit or have a dozen cats, that would have made the picture-postcard complete. Sure, I thought about ringing a friend but my single friends have gone home for Thanksgiving and the rest (most) of my friends are married. I have no idea if it is like this in other cultures (specifically France) but married friends apparently do not ever hang out with single friends unless a family birthday or a wedding is involved, so I don't even bother to ask anymore.
Copyright © 2008 A Southern Belle Goes to Paris, y'all.
Of course, the impending Holidays make my ennui a little more acute but I sure hope my Saturdays with PBS and Turner Classic Movies will come to an end soon or my hair may begin turning grey and I'll start sporting housecoats. (*gasp* Never!) Here's a handy list of Holiday Blues do's and don'ts - too bad in one evening I am already guilty of every single don't.

Atlanta is just not a very good tout seul city or I would simply go out by myself and do stuff regardless of the time of day. Alas, it is what it is and I declare my Pity Party officially over.