Have party that the doorman shuts down and I myself leave early because of my insistence that someone put “quinine” in my drink. Check.
Go ahead and volunteer to go to Aspen in the days before I fly out of the country because I apparently, love wine and stress and hate sleep. Check.
Plan on going to Lollapalooza the day after I get back from Costa Rica. Because I apparently love planes and music festivals and hate my own bed. Check.
Get a subletter and get a new roommate in 10 hours or less. And while we’re at it, hey, why not move into another room in the apartment. Then spend all day looking at photos to organize instead of cleaning up change and errant lipglosses. Check.
Yet to come…
Finish the novel—a first draft at least.
Pack, more shots, more packing, Malaria pills.
Avoid looking at bank statements.
Bask in the last hot water for weeks. Then stand in front of an air conditioner for hours and trying to hold on to the feeling.
See my friends. Quit all my jobs. Or quit my friends and see my jobs. I can’t remember which.
Spend some quality time with the rents. Buy little ipod. Buy a new camera.
What am I forgetting?