Weekend of poor decisions (not related to alcohol)

I was not looking forward to this weekend because of all the heat warnings. And I mean it’s summer, so yeah it’s hot. No reason to be getting us all riled up about mostly acceptable weather patterns. Weather people seriously need more drama in their life, or change of occupation, or substance abuse of some sort. Either one of those would probably work.


Friday night I was already unhappy because the whole weekend was going to be hot and miserable in my head. Nothing even happened yet, and I was already pissed. And who lives with this type of attitude? I do. Shut up.


Saturday morning was challenging. And not because of a glorious hangover. Regretfully. But because of the vacation, organizational affairs. Have you ever tried organizing a trip for four people, to a foreign country, under specific circumstances and demands, while trying to save money? You are going to need: two people, at least 3 computers, gallons of coffee, cigarettes (I don’t care that you don’t smoke), and a lot of curse words. And after about 4 hours of your life, you’ll have all the reservations done for the trip you don’t even feel like taking anymore, because  of the amount of time it took you to organize it. Damn it.


Second half of the day was a lot better. I got to be on the beach, and swim, and even give a shot at paddle boarding again. And even though my legs were shaking all throughout, from the exhaustion of having to stand, I guess. I don’t know, my legs are just dicks sometimes. I do declare this activity to be completely fun. To prove my point, I actual  said this out laud ‘I think, I’m having fun.’ Like in a surprised way, like is this even possible? Doesn’t the life suck for forever ever, after becoming an adult? And sometimes it doesn’t. So yeah, that much fun.


Sunday was a day of poor decisions. Because we decided to go visit Old Westbury Gardens on Long Island. Which was beautiful, but also not at all air conditioned. Because rich people of the olden days were apparently not into that. Possibly because of allergy threats associated with the air conditioning, or because they were saving on their electricity bill, or they liked sweating a lot. I don’t know.


I liked the map of the premises they gave you once you arrived. And you did need a map, the property was huge. And I had a thought that I would like to give out people a map of my 1-bedroom apartment also. Just to fuck with them. ‘And here is the map of my place. I highly recommend visiting the garden, which is mostly just two of my house plants that managed to survive. And also the lavatory, conveniently garnished with a toilet…’  And then close off the bedroom for renovations until August 22, and not actually do any renovations. Because I’m rebellious like that.


Anyway, here are the pictures

I'm going to need a commissioned self-portrait
I’m going to need a commissioned self-portrait


Dining hall


I wonder if they ever had cheat days and just ate junk food
I wonder if they ever had cheat days and just ate junk food



In conclusion, don’t visit rich people’s houses. It does nothing for your self-esteem. Also, it’s not air conditioned.

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