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February 27, 2001 (Tuesday)
Another rollercoaster day full of ups and downs. Having met bitter disappointment at the continuation of the revolt, I expected nothing had changed this morning. Utterly dismayed at the turn of event, I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock 12 times before successfully dragging myself out of bed. Fully expecting the revolution to have gained in scope, I was prepared to see additional comrades next to Le General.
But as I entered the kitchen this morning, what did I see but Le General, all alone, sitting pensively on the kitchen counter. It seems the plate from yesterday, along with its piggybacking spoons, had folded overnight and washed themselves. An evil smile crept across my lips as I stared at Le General. It was his turn to feel impotent, and he was not wearing this new outfit well. While his initial sway had been powerful, the collective conscience of the plate and its spoons steered them to the side of good. Yes, indeed, I was well pleased that these dishes were basically good creatures, once again reaffirming my belief in the innate goodness of dinnerware.
It is odd how one single event can alter one's outlook for the day, and this realization of the goodness of these dishes uplifted my spirit to precarious heights, as I left my apartment this morning. Yes, my steps were lighter and my stride a little more cocky. I was on top of the world again. Finding lost faith is never an everyday occurrence.
Oh, but how far the fall when one reaches such heights as I did today. During the day, I had an opportunity to speak with my non-Deirdre roommate. I was so excited I had to share this news with him. In fact, I was telling every person I met, often receiving odd looks in return for this cherished information. I didn't care. What did they know of my struggle and my sacrifice? The burden I had taken on myself had aged me 10 years in the few days I had borne it. My joy transcended above all their pettiness. However, during the course of this conversation, it was revealed to me that it was he who had washed the plate and its two spoons. Upon hearing these words, I promptly proceeded to faint. As I recovered from my swoon, I realized nothing had changed overnight. To regain and lose faith so quickly in one day is not an easy burden for a heart to take. I felt hollow inside, speechless and dazed.
But, all is not lost, as I soon realized I had found a comrade in arms. I would no longer have to bear this cross myself. He had seen the new plate. Realizing Deirdre would discover the revolt, he had washed the plate along with its spoons before our poor Deirdre had woken from her alcohol-induced slumber. Yes, our Deirdre has a taste for the nectar of the gods. The speed with which our dear lass can down them 40's would make Bacchus himself proud.
So, it was a day full of ups and downs. While my faith in dinnerware had been quickly regained and just as quickly lost, my faith in man was restored. At the end of the day, while Le General had won, I had found a fellow comrade. No longer would I have to be alone in my misery. Between the two of us, I might still be able to protect Deirdre from the knowledge of this revolt. The first steps to the summit had been taken, and with time and some planning, I will be able to make the final assault on the summit that is Le General.
As always, such lofty pursuits are often met with disbelief.
I can just hear those nonbelievers shouting, "Dude, it sounds like you're downing some 40's there yourself." And, is that supposed to be a bad thing? What man-about-town hasn't partaken of the intoxicating flavors of Thunderbird and Night Train, two of the favorite aperitifs enjoyed by the fine people of the New York subway tunnels? Can the discriminating tastes of the local denizens of the New York subway tunnels be wrong? I hear 2001 was a particularly good year.
"Alright, I'm not going to fight with you. I've enjoyed the diesel and gasoline flavors of Night Train myself. And, yes 2001 was a very good year for Thunderbird. But, dude, just admit it, you are using a thesaurus." Ummm........ I'm sorry to have to cut this short, but there's a 40 that's shouting at me to drink it. So with that, I wish you a good day and know that I'll be thinking of you, good reader, as I partake of my 40.