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It’s Thursday.

19 Nov

(Original image courtesy of Radio Loveless.)

I need to hug it out

4 Sep

Hey. I’m packing for an east coast wedding. Well, I opened the suitcase. I’ve been grumpy all day.  And part of yesterday, too. Why am I in this funk and when will it end? I don’t really know, but I’ve made some estimates and I’m totally going to draw you a pie chart.

It’s so hideous! I know it’s ridiculous that I’m attributing 50% of my poisonous mood to politics. You know I am Team Obama, but both conventions left me pretty cold. So much bombasting. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if I was listening to actual speeches or unconvincing parodies. I don’t want to talk about it. Just, must the rhetoric be so tacky? Cloying? And so punitive? It’s like Ice cream dripping in battery acid. Do we really have to snap on the fanny packs and puff up our chests? Nevermind. I don’t want to make sense and I don’t want to talk about it.

So, the 40%. This morning at 6am I woke to a crashing sound and someone saying “hello” and I was very sure that someone was in my apartment. I let my heart pound for a while and then I armed myself with a curtain rod and proved myself wrong. You think there can never be too many closets in your new apartment until they are hiding places.

Okay, while not a great start to the day, not a great trauma either, but I have a heightened fear of intruders ever since that one time it kind of happened for real. You know this one – I was alone, sleeping naked? I woke up to the sound of the chain lock hitting the floor? There was a guy staring at me? I hate telling the rest because it’s actually a lame story with an exciting beginning. He was a building management lackey, come to free some poor couple who got stuck in their bedroom in the middle of the night (weird), only they didn’t live in my apartment. Or my building. And he didn’t explain himself when he realized he had the wrong place. He just ran. It ended with a barely legible handwritten apology, no crime. But still, scary. I do remember that M and I were good friends that summer, and before I thought to call the police, my first instinct was to just drive to his house. It’s his east coast wedding I am still not packed for. I’m sure I don’t have to tell his bride that if she keeps a baseball bat under the bed, I bet he will totally smash someone’s skull for her. I think she has his back, too. She has a pretty good gazerbeam. My friends are making good choices.

I’m going to pack now to reduce my grump by 10%, but I am counting on three things to get me over the rest.

1. Driving to the airport in the morning. It might work. I like driving when the sun is just up. I like the ceremony of coffee. I like getting on the plane when everyone still smells like soap. Last time I had to catch an early flight, it was such a pretty day I started taking pictures from the car. I swerved all over the road.

2. A visit with The Mad Nerdess. In fact, a few nights ago I woke myself up laughing because she was cracking me up in my dream. It was weird.

3. Sweater weather. Just around the river bend.