Sleep, Lola, Sleep

I have been battling illness this week, although I can't actually tell what I have. I am congested, my throat is dry and no amount of water seems to help, I'm nauseous and, despite a commitment to getting enough sleep, remain tired. I am something of a hypochondriac so I've confided to Anna my fear of having chronic fatigue syndrome. Anna, no doubt trying to top me, says it sounds more like rabies. Let's hope its neither.

Anna has already pointed out that FFH's recent Eastern swing doubled as a reader tour, ruling out one of our world-famous Hostylefax posts.

But there was this story: Our family now hits NYC and scatters. Fritz and Queenie stay in Brooklyn with the uncles, Clafloutis and Bombololo. Anna and I stay with Ricardo and Trixie. And Easy Lola stays with a friend whose full name sounds slightly like a sneeze (This is mean, but I'm looking for shorthand here) in the East Village.

So anyway, half an hour before my grandmother's 80th birthday party, Fritz calls to say they are outside Sneezy's apartment, but there is no sign of Lola. This was cause for concern. Apparently, Queenie got so worried, she roused the super of the building in which my parents thought Sneezy lived. They super had never heard of Sneezy, nor had anyone in the building above the Popeye's, after they had knocked on all the door. It turns out that the store was just a landmark, and that Lola, after waking up and dressing by the appointed hour, had fallen asleep. Her phone failed to wake her.

So instead she woke up around 12:30 with 37 missed calls. Luckily New York's public transit is developed enough to get someone from the East Village to Swankest Westchester without requiring a car. It also shows the evolution of Lola's relationship with Queenie and Fritz that there wasn't much yelling. Really, Lola just just had to put up with my teasing every time she yawned. A small price to pay, I think.