Sunday, April 17, 2011

wait, what's going on? you look tan

Last night, I discovered the club-appropriate equivalent of the kryptonite coat (a throwback reference to the jobless jenny days). To celebrate a quarter century of my good friend Alicia, I had to go digging through the dress closet (also known as the coat closet, which has 1/4 coats, 3/4 dresses of all varieties).  I needed something that was both club-friendly and could withstand the torrential downpours we were getting yesterday, ruling out the majority of my nicer dresses. Out of sheer desperation, I finally chose a dress I bought ages ago on sale from Urban Outfitters.  I thought it was unremarkable at best (and possibly unflattering at worst), but I went with it.  Turns out it was a big hit, and awakened whatever tee tiny part of me likes to dance.  Since you can't halfheartedly celebrate a 25th birthday, I didn't exactly retire the kryptonite dress and call it a night until closer to my normal wake up time.  And then I woke up at my normal wake up time.  I shot the dress a few dirty looks when I rolled over, looked at my clock, and realized I had been asleep for approximately 4 hours.  

After giving in to my extreme morning-person gene, I very grudgingly rolled out of bed and made my way out to Capitol Hill to meet my friend Torey for coffee and a stroll around Eastern Market.  When it was time for Torey to head home, I steered in the direction of the metro.  Then I realized it was 2 on a sinfully perfect weather Sunday and I had nowhere to be until 6.  

Why not just walk home? 

For some reason, I listened to that guilty little inner voice pushing for exercise and exploitation of the weather, and not the very tired inner voice advocating for an afternoon on the couch.

So I set off walking, roughly following the path of the blue/orange line metro through the city.  I popped into the botanical gardens for a bathroom break (and for the flowers, of course; but seriously, free museums make for great stopping points).  Then I walked along the mall, and up 12th to M, and along M until I turned in to the Energizer bunny whose batteries just up and quit.  

By the time I was nearing Farragut West, I was basically incapable of walking a straight line or really even standing up straight.  I stumbled to the metro and poured myself on to a train.  Somehow I made my way to Allie's couch.  Small miracles.

Despite the exhaustion that eventually took over, I couldn't have been happier with my afternoon.  I hadn't brought a book or notebook, and my phone's battery was nearly drained, so there were few distractions (aside from the ever-amusing behavior of fanny pack-clad tourists).  It was just me, the sun, and a lot of Johnny Cash. And after nearly getting blown away Mary Poppins style in yesterday's wind and rain, the re-emergence of the sun had me practically swooning over DC.  

By the time I showed up for Sunday girls' dinner at Leana's, I had been outside nearly all day (hence her shock at my less than Casper-ish skin tone, and the quote that titles this post) and walked about 8 miles.  My body hates me just a bit, and I think my kryptonite dress is smirking from the corner, but this whole weekend was so very worth it. 

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