mental health day

i would like to start off by saying that it takes a lot for me to not come into work. i am typically wrought with guilt, assuming that no one will be able to go on without me. how can any library function sans me? but i had the most depressing night last night and i just could not go to work today. so here i am sitting at starbucks paying god knows how much to use their wireless network because, as always, my internet problems at home continue to go unsolved. it is an enigma wrapped in a riddle, that is.
so last night i was hanging out with some friends who i think very highly of. truly, i love these friends. it pains me slightly that i have to write about this situation, but i know they'll understand. it's not you, it's me! the problem is me!
so there we are having a fine old time and Guy A is telling Guy B how many girls he has that are just dying to go out with Guy B. Then Guy B says, "oh no! not true! its you, you Guy A who all the girls want to go out with!" and back and forth, both guys being too modest to admit what fantastic catches they are, and both generously offering a cornucopia of single women that the other would adore.
"do you guys know any single men?" i ask, getting a little annoyed.
"men?!" they say, "pshaw! we don't know any men." (okay, i admit neither of them used the word 'pshaw' but you get my drift)
innocent bystander: "if you're looking for men you should really move to another city. new york is terrible."
so there you have it. new york is a single man's paradise, but if i want to find a reasonable boyfriend i have to relocate. texas was suggested. i would be "exotic" there. i have to move to @%&#ing texas?! do they even have libraries there?
but i digress, three scotches later i found myself walking home from the L train through the lonely streets of brooklyn. feeling down i decide to call the nubian god. now, things have been rocky with the nubian god since his departure to cleveland. just the other night we were speaking on the phone and he convinced me that he would call more often and that i am in fact still important to him. but of course the nubian god did not answer the phone, so i left a drunken message on his voicemail. note to people who know me: please do not let me operate phones when i am intoxicated. if i was trying to drive you would take my car keys ... why do you trust me with my cell phone? they are equally dangerous.
so i walked home quietly crying to myself and then spent the remainder of the evening eating mixed mediterranean olives and taking pictures of my blotchy eyes.
and that, dear blog readers, is why i have spent the better part of this morning knitting and watching the price is right. because by gum i deserve it.