I'm a little dark cloud of surliness. Started the day off by oversleeping. Didn't get any coffee until I got to work, so I was clumsy and groggy and just plain unhappier. I managed to somehow splash coffee into my eye -- from a covered cup. I told you I'm a spaz. Started the work day off with a phone call from a lovely woman who cussed me out when I told her she had an overdue ILB book. Apparently she'd returned it to a different library, and they hadn't checked it in. All she had to do was call them, since I couldn't do a damn thing about it. She spent more time swearing at me than she likely spent calling to fix the problem. Always a sign that it's going to be a great day...
Way too busy to think all day at work. More irritable people yelling at us -- is it a full moon or something? Have I had an "Abuse Me" sign on my back all day? The hell?!?
I did have time for some email banter with Sean, (whose site is my site's twin -- evil twin or otherwise, you decide!) about how very much Yahoo sucks. Every time I sent an email, I got an error message. Turns out that Yahoo was sending two or three copies of each email, rather than just one. Joy. So, sorry to those of you who got bombarded with identical emails from me today. Not my fault -- I may be a spaz, but I'm not completely brain-dead yet.
Now I'm at Simmons, to do work for a paper/presentation I've put off for far too long. I had anticipated getting here, grabbing dinner in the cafeteria while reading a bit (decompressing from work a little). When I got here, I noticed a red carpet laid out in front of the mail entrance. "Ah-ha," I thought. "At least someone has finally figured out just how Terribly Important and Super Cool I am!" Then the security gaurd told me I couldn't go in that way, and had to go around to the back. Hmmph. Waiting for someone more important than me? Not possible! So I trudged around to the back, figuring I'd just go get dinner and then get some work done. But much to my indignation, I found that the Much More Important Person is the guest of honor at a reception in the cafeteria. So it's closed to peasants like me. I now have an oh-so-healthy bag of Chee-tos for dinner, and I'm even grumpier than before. Meh.
Off to do work now. Unless the damn library's been taken over by dignitaries or something.
Congratulate me, I'm divorced. It all went by very quickly, and relatively painlessly. I spent yesterday evening pacing the floor, fretting. Barry has sent me some cryptic emails, making references to a lawyer -- I didn't know what that meant. I didn't know if he was playing head games with me again, or if he was going to try to pull some last-minute crap at the hearing -- not to stop the divorce, because he doesn't care about that, but to get money or furniture from me. Posessions were all he ever really cared about anyway, so I wouldn't have put it past him. Beth sat with me and gave me pep talks all evening, until I felt calmer. Had a glass of wine, and fell asleep listening to music.
This morning was cold and grey and rainy. Suited my mood. Beth went to the hearing with me, and, as we drove past the courthouse looking for a place to park, I saw Barry standing outside with a blonde woman -- not the woman he cheated on me with. He was wearing the suit he wore for our wedding. I don't know if that was deliberate, or if it's just the only suit he owns. With him, you can never tell. Found a parking place, and went inside, and realized I had no idea where I was supposed to go. A security officer looked at my docket number, and led us around until he found the right courtroom -- he was very nice about it, too. We sat on the opposite side of the room from Barry. I tried not to look at him, but I kept catching glimpses out of the corner of my eye. He looked awful -- he's lost weight, and he was pale and shaky. His eyes were red and swollen. Good, I thought. Hope it hurts. Beth kept me laughing for the twently minutes or so that we sat there waiting for the judge. We talked about her boyfriend, and about Ben, and giggled about how the giant light fixture in the middle of the ceiling looked like a UFO. She said she wondered what would happen if she grabbed a robe and pretended to be the judge. I hope Barry heard us laughing, and saw me at least looking happy. The first case was a woman doing some sort of child custody thing -- her baby's father was in jail, so he wasn't there. Sad. The next case was an elderly man seeking a divorce -- his wife wasn't there. He hadn't seen or heard from her in over a year. Also very sad -- and I felt terrible because, when he walked past to leave after the judge granted the divorce, I was smiling. I was just happy to see how little time it took -- but his case was so depressing. He was there all alone.
We got called next, and, much to my displeasure, we had to stand at the little podium together, shoulders nearly touching. "I'm blind on my right side," I told myself. "I can't see him. He's not there. I can't see him..." The judge questioned me first. "Mrs. Peters, were you married in Rutland, Vermont, on November 20, 1999?" "Yes." "Did you last live together on May 27, 200, in Chelsea, Massachusetts?" "Yes." "On May 8, was there an irretrievable breakdown of the marriage?" "Yes." "Would the breakdown be fixed by marriage counselling?" "No." He asked Barry if he had heard and understood my answers, and Barry agreed. He asked if we would abide by the seperation agreement, and granted me my maiden name -- I'm a Carter again, hurrah! He said neither of us could remarry for 120 days -- damn, that shoots down my weekend plans! And then it was over. So quickly. Beth gave me a huge hug the minute we left the courtroom -- she said she was proud, that I was like a rock, while he was shaking and looked like he was about to cry. I said "I'm so happy -- it's like a huge weight had been lifted. I never have to see him again," not realizing he was right behind me, waiting to leave. when we walked outside, he was huddled with the blonde woman, who he had apparently left sitting in the rain while he was in court. Beth took me out for a celebratory lunch, and then we headed home. She said "I never knew your eyes were so bright!" -- they had been sad every time she saw me since I moved in.
I feel -- empty, I guess, right now. I'm glad it's over. I've been in a progressively worse mood over the past few weeks, knowing the divorce was looming. I damn near killed myself yesterday, walking out into traffic because I was so preoccupied. Good thing that SUV had excellent brakes. I never have to see him again. I never have to get any emails at work from him again. But... I never thought it would end this way. He always said we would grow old together -- he told me that he'd still love me when I was eighty, sitting in a rocking chair... and part of me wants to think he did love me, and will still love me in the future, though I'll never see him again, if I can help it. I don't know. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it -- happy, but still mourning a bit, I guess.
So. The date. It was really nice. Ben's a sweetheart, and a perfect gentleman. I spent most of yesterday -- after I cleaned the apartment -- doing girly things to get ready. I had refreshed the hair dye the night before, so Saturday I made sure my dress was cat fur and wrinkle-free, and did my nails, and played with makeup for a while. Called my mom and babbled about how nervous I was. Emailed friends about how nervous I was. Drove them all nuts, I'm sure. Got dressed way to early, then sat around fidgeting until I figured it was time to catch the bus. Ben called once, to make sure we were still on for the evening. He said he'd be at the bus stop where we were meeting early, which is a good thing, since I was about a half hour early myself. I got there, and saw him right away, waiting across the street. He gave me a nice hug, and a kiss on the cheek (aw!) and we set off for a walk around the North End. We didn't really have plans; we figured we'd just wing it, and do whatever we felt like doing. We ended up sitting down by the water in a little park that has a great view of the USS Constitution, talking for about an hour. He's travelled more extensively than I have (he said "We'll have to get you out more, you need to travel!") so we talked about that, and our families, and our roommates, and all sorts of thing until we got hungry and decided to go get some dinner. What we didn't realize was that the restaurants in the North End do reservations -- most restaurants in Boston don't -- so we had to try a few places before we found one that could squeeze us in. He ordered for me -- that always impresses me, for some reason -- and we had a great dinner. Mine was chicken, baked with a slice of proscuitto and mozzerella on top, smothered in mushrooms, in some sort of white wine sauce -- delicious. More talking, until the host started giving us dirty looks because there were people waiting to be seated. We left, and wandered down toward Government Center, where we had drinks (and more talking) in a little pub. Spent maybe an hour there, then got on the T and headed for Newbury Street. We walked from one end to the other -- holding hands by that time, very comfortably -- and looked in the windows of the fancy shops. Stopped for cheesecake and coffee, then, since it was still early, went to The Silvertone (which is now one of my new favorite spots) for yet more drinks, and more talking. My throat hurt by the time I got home, from talking so much. I had almost no voice at all this morning. He's very easy to talk to -- and it seemed odd to be with someone who has no Issues. I generally go for guys with some sort of painful past -- I guess because I think I can fix them. I almost didn't know how to act toward someone who's so comfortable with himself, and who seems to have no deep dark secrets, no wounds to bare. We debated politics, and religion ("Two subjects you're not supposed to discuss on a first date," he joked) and books, and music, and everything else under the sun. We agreed on most things, but disagreed on enough to make it interesting. He surprised me at one point by interrupting to say "I know you're going through a lot, and I don't want to seem to rush you, but I'd really like to go out with you again." Made me warm and fuzzy inside. Afetr the Silvertone, he walked me to Haymarket to wait for my bus (it was nearly midnight by that time), and... ahem... much goodnight kissing ensued. In public. Whee! And, well, he's a damn fine kisser. My bus arrived, and I went home feeling giddy. It was strange to go out with someone who treated me nicely... and yet today, I'm a little mixed up. I do like him, he seems to be a very caring and honest person. But I guess I just don't want to give my heart to anyone, at all. It's all mine now, you see, and I don't know if I want to share it. Beth tells me this is a healthy thing -- she said "Just have fun with it. Not every date has to be FOREVER, you know. It's the best thing for you." mind.)
All in all, it was very nice. I'd certainly see him again, if he asks. Positive male influence is good, or so my therapist says.
The preparations for the date have begun. I haven't had a real date-type-date in, oh, about six years. I'd forgotten how much fun it is. I dyed my hair tonight, covering up those pesky roots. I know what I'm wearing -- after careful research (asking a male coworker and posting to Three Way Action, I have decided to wear a short, nice-but-casual black dress, black tights, and my much-loved clunky Mary Janes. I bought new tights (and a pair of fishnets, which I plan to wear to the dinner at JournalCon), a little purse, and a sparkly little necklace and earrings. I'm worried about being overdressed, but I don't want to send the message that this isn't a date, or that I'm not interested. The weird thing is, I haven't met Ben in person yet, but based on our phone conversations and emails, he's a very sweet guy. Smart, and funny, and we have a lot in common... and he's very easy to talk to. And I think I said all this already. I'm a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. Whee!
I don't have much else to say --I just can't stop babbling. I just made Beth's boyfriend's kids very happy by letting them play with my Mr. Potato Head for a while -- well, except for when they were fighting over who got to play with it first. Kids make me nervous, they're too unpredictable.
Oh hell, I can't string together a coherant thought right now. I think I'll go make dinner, and fret some more. Maybe do my nails. I'm too old for this stuff...
So I have a date Saturday. A real, honest-to-goodness date. Eek. A blind date, even, since I haven't actually met the guy in person yet. I've spoken to him on the phone twice, and we've exchanged a flurry of emails. He really seems nice -- very easy to talk to, which is always good. Articulate, and funny, which is also good. The two phone conversations we had surprised me, in that I talked so much. I generally don't, unless I know someone well already. The few good friends I have are people I feel I can talk to without reservation, about whatever silly thought pops into my head. As of right now, the plan is for us to meet in or near the North End, and wander around, and find a good place to eat. I haven't been there in years, so I have no idea which restaurants are good. (And inexpensive -- I'm poor, and I always hate assuming that the other person will pay.) Any suggestions?
The divorce hearing is in less than a week, now. Five days and counting. I'm looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. I have no idea what to expect -- I have a nagging fear that Barry will try to pull some last-minute stunt -- not show up, or make demands to get furniture back, or to get money from me -- even though I know there's really nothing he can do without stopping the divorce action and refiling, with an attorney. I doubt he would do that. But still, there were a lot of things I doubted he'd do, and he's proved me wrong on all of them.
I don't know if going on a date with someone is the best idea right now -- I don't think I'm just trying to distract myself. This guy -- let's call him Ben -- seems really nice, and I think I'd want to get to know him, whatever the circumstances. And it is fun -- I'm all in a flutter about what to wear, and whether or not he'll like me. Wish me luck -- I'm going to need it.
Lordy, I'm sleepy. I got home at about three o'clock this morning, which is about four hours past when I'd normally be sound asleep. But it was a very fun night -- saw Patrick's final show, which was excellent -- there was a nice big audience, who seemed to respond really well to the play -- and then tagged along to the cast party. Met a lot of people, including one reader I hadn't met before. I had a great time, and finally went to sleep just before four.
The noisy people with the incessantly barking dog next door are moving out today. (Yippee!) It's almost worth having been woken up two and a half hours after I fell asleep to know that they'll be gone soon. It's not that they aren't nice people, they're just so LOUD. Every conversation has to be shouted. One of them likes to sing random bits of songs at the top of his (off-key) lungs. And the dog has never been trained at all, so he barks. All the time. All day long. And he's a German Shepard. Big dog, big voice. The window he likes to bark out of is level with my window, and maybe twenty feet away. Loud, loud, loud. But they'll be gone soon. One annoyance gone.
The divorce hearing -- D-Day -- is one week from Tuesday. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. Patrick does an impression of Barry that makes me laugh 'til my stomach hurts -- Barry's British, so Patrick does this foppish, Robin Leach-esque voice, and just cracks me up. Last night we decided that he should come to court with me, and pretend to be my lawyer. I can laugh at the whole thing -- it's really just ridiculous -- but still... it really doesn't feel real to me anymore. I keep having to remind myself that the marriage really did happen, I really did catch him in bed with someone else (which I honestly can't think about much, or talk about beyond jokes, because it still feels like a swift sucker-punch in the stomach), and the hearing really is going to happen. Very strange. I know it'll be a bad day -- I have the whole day off work, because I knew I'd be in no shape to go to work right afterward. I'm hoping to go out for a few nice stiff drinks the following weekend.
I'm torn right now between going to do laundry, or trying to nap. Since the dog is going nuts next door, a nap seems out of the question. I suppose I should take a shower.
I am distracted by a somewhat pleasant thing -- I placed a personal ad on Yahoo a while ago. So far, I've gotten responses from a couple of jerks -- the guy who told me that if I don't have a perfect body I should go to the gym and change myself, and the guy who sent me bizarre, one-sentence, sarcastic remarks for a while, then got mad when I asked him what the hell he was talking about, and I've gotten a few from 50-year-old married men (Ew!) -- but this past week, I got email from a guy who seems really nice. He's slightly older than me, and physically very much not my type. He's tall, and big, and burly -- the kind of guy women describe as "a big teddy bear." He's in a band, which I have a huge weakness for. And so far, from the conversations we've had online and over the phone, he seems very sweet. We converse very easily, very comfortably. I haven't met him in person yet, but I'm hoping to do that soon. And I'm hoping it doesn't turn out to be a disaster.
I'm going to get moving now -- laundry calls. Oh, and incidentally, Yahoo seems to be eating my email messages. I have heard from a few people recently that I never replied to messages they've sent me -- messages I never got. Today I found one someone sent me almost a month ago. So, if you've emailed me and never heard back, I'm not ignoring you -- I just never got your message. Sigh.
This'll be quick, I'm cooking dinner. I'm absolutely starving, I haven't eaten much today. I'm trying to a) lose some weight, and b) get rid of the intense need to nap I always get after lunch. We're just too busy for me to be sleepy lately.
I'm dreadfully sad that Saundra is quitting her journal. It's been one of my favorites, and Saundra's one of my favorite people. Saundra, you better keep in touch, that's all I'm saying...
I saw Patrick's show with Lee and MuppetGirl on Sunday afternoon, and loved it. I'm not much of a critic, so all I'm going to say is, brilliant. Fantastic. I'm seeing it again Saturday -- anyone who can, please go!
I'm very very happy that the noisy people with the always-barking dog are moving out next weekend. Beth and I are thinking of throwing a party, in celebration of the fact that we'll be able to sleep past six on the weekends now. Of course, given my luck, someone with eight rabid Rottweilers will move in next door...
I had other things to write about... I'm forgetting them all. I'm hungry, and tired from going to the gym. That's right, I've been four times now. I had a personal training session today -- the very nice guy who signed me up showed me how to use all the weight machines, and told me how hard I should be working out for a while. It was only mildly intimidating.
Joanne is visiting Boston next month -- I'm terribly excited already. I like playing tour guide, and I'm very eager to meet her.
The grand idea I had for this entry has just flown right out the window. Sorry. I'm off to cook my pasta now.
I am going to be very sore tomorrow. My legs are wobbly, my arms feel like overcooked spaghetti, and I just sort of want to curl up and go to sleep. I joined a very cute little gym down the street from work today, and, pain aside, I really like it (much to my shock). It's very small, and when I was there, only two other people were working out. It has a ton of equipment in such a small space, though -- and the coolest part? The big-screen TV and wall of movies you can watch while you work out. I watched the first part of the old Robin Hood with Errol Flynn while I pedalled away on a stationary bike. The bike was fine -- I can go for hours on one of those things, and just feel pleasantly tired afterward. However, I got on a rowing machine next. I had tried it once before, so I know that, while it's fun and feels good while I'm on it, I will be hurting tomorrow. Last time, I couldn't move my arms without flinching for three days afterward.
The guy who was working there was very short and completely rectangular -- very muscly, which made me feel like even more of a slug. But he was surprisingly nice -- didn't try to pull a hard-sell on me, gave me a free lock for my locker, and was just generally really friendly, as were the other two guy there. I have an appointment with a trainer Tuesday, to learn how to use all the weight machines. I have a feeling I might actually keep going there for a while -- hopefully at least until my clothes fit properly again. There's something very demoralizing about taking out a pair of jeans that were baggy in the spring, and finding that you can barely zip them a few months later... and it will take up that couple of hours of down time after work, when I usually have nothing to do but loaf around the house watching TV. It should help me sleep at night, too, which is a very good thing. The only drawback I can think of is the increased chance of running into Barry on the bus home, since I'll probably be leaving the gym at around the same time he leaves work. I didn't see him tonight, and I was honestly too tired to care much if I did. I'd rather not see him at all, of course -- at least not until I'm much more svelte...
The gym visit also burned off a lot of work stress -- we've been too busy to think lately, what with all the students coming back. We don't really have a large enough staff, so the one person I work with who isn't even trying to help is causing a strain. I'm sure I've bitched about her before -- she's old, and has worked there for years, and is retiring soon, so she just doesn't care. Right now, she's supposed to be helping us staff the desk an hour or so a day -- but she never shows up. Or she'll show up, stand there for a minute or two, then disappear. I have only said anything to my boss once before, when this coworker left me alone at the desk for almost three hours on a really busy day. Usually I don't complain, because I know it won't do any good. Yesterday, though, I'd had it. She was supposed to help me at the desk while my other coworker was staffing the reference desk, and she never showed. Oliver had to keep running back and forth between desks to help me, and I ended up staying at work late, because she was nowhere to be found. My boss finally turned up, and I sort of blew up a little -- I said that it's bad enough that this coworker doesn't help when she's supposed to, but she constantly complains about the rest of us for any little thing we do that she doesn't like. Plus, we help her out whenever she needs it, with no complaints. The least she could do is behave the same way, right? I was prepared for a fight today, but nothing happened -- apparently, my boss ended up working at the desk, and then telling the evil coworker off when she finally showed up.
That last bit probably didn't make any sense -- sorry. I'm so tired it hurts to type...
Whoooo, was today busy... the new semester has started, so there are lost-looking new students coming out of the woodwork. I got nothing done -- and this time, it wasn't because of excessive slacking. I started off the morning with a very brusque and pushy professor, upset because we were unable to read his mind, and therefore did not have the books he wanted on Reserve for his class -- which started today. Every time I tried to explain that he needed to give us a list of the materials he wanted for Reserve, or have his assistant, or trained monkey, or whatever, give us a list, he cut me off with "I'm in a hurry. Just take everything you had last year, and put it back on for this year." Again with the mind-reading. I finally got him to hear at least some part of what he was saying, because an hour or so later, his very bewildered assistant (alas, not a trained monkey) came in asking what he had sent her to us for. She gave us a list -- five $#@%$! pages worth of books for us to fetch --and it was all resolved. After that, I had an annoyingly-long staff meeting -- it ran half an hour late, which threw my boss's carefully-planned schedule off. We're shortstaffed, as always, so everyone at the desk has to be scheduled fairly rigidly. Is it wrong of me that my only real concern was when I would get to go to lunch?
We had an information table with free stuff for new students last week and today, which meant I got to stand outside in the sun chatting with my friend Nathan and shouting "Hey, come get some free stuff!" at students passing by. I also got a weird little triangular sunburn on my upper chest, thanks to the v-neck sweater I was wearing. (A tip: never wear a cozy black sweater on a day you'll have to stand in the sun for an hour, no matter how cold the weatherman says it's going to be. Way too hot.) I brought home a deck of cards, some shiny pencils, a little paperclip/note holder thingie, and a little brush for getting dust off your computer screen home for my roommate -- they were all table leftovers, and all have either the library's information or the logos of databases we use on them. She seemed to like them -- she busted out the screen cleaner right away.
In between the meeting and the info table, I spent all day trying to put one book on Reserve. Just one measly book. That normally takes me five minutes. Today, it took hours, and I still didn't finish. The main problem was my slighty-off coworker, who was so involved in reading his email that he wouldn't help anyone who came to the desk -- he just sent them down to me, ignoring the growing heap of books and paperwork looming over my side of the desk, and the growing line of people just waiting to ask a question, or get their little raffle ticket (also from the info table) validated. I finally yelled at him to start helping some people, so I could actually get something done, but by then it was too late to do anything except try to clean up the mess. I staggered out of work at 4:30 with my hair standing on end and my head aching. Rereading the second Harry Potter book on the T helped, as did the nice empty bus that pulled up right behind the insanely-crowded bus at Haymarket -- I got a seat for a change, and didn't get elbowed, stomped on, or trampled in the process. Now I am at home, contently nibbling Chinese food while waiting for my grocery delivery to arrive. The odd thumps and crashes coming from the living room are mildly annoying -- Smoke, Tucker and Zoe are enjoying the fact that it's cool out, and are rocketing around the apartment. Sigh. But on the whole, I'm tired, and happy to be at home. Now if the damn dog next door would just stop barking for five minutes...
Well, I'm headed back to Boston tomorrow. No matter how long I'm in Vermont, it never seems long enough. It's so relaxing -- my mom looks after me, of course, cooks me my favorite foods and makes sure I get enough sleep -- and I almost hate to go home.
Katia and her boyfriend left here a few hours ago -- they're terribly nice. I knew her the minute I saw her, and I think they had a good time -- at least, I hope so. We're all quiet and shy, so it's hard to tell, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. We went to the Vermont State Fair yesterday, in the pouring rain -- we wandered around a couple of buildings with cheesy exhibits until the weather cleared, and then went and ate (a hot dog and fries for me, yum) and looked at the 4-H stuff. Prize vegetables (which made us hungry) and flowers and such, and bunnies and cows (which we patted) and the dairy and maple barns -- it's all very cheesy, but fun. We went on one ride, the Zumur, which was swings on long chains, which spun very fast for about five minutes. I loved it, despite the dizziness, but Katia and my mom didn't enjoy it nearly as much. I just leaned back and closed my eyes -- it felt like flying. I wanted someone to dare me to ride the Kamikaze (lots of upside-down action) but sadly, no one did. My mom bought a giant inflatable alien for my brother, and we headed home. It was cold and damp, a good night to curl up with a book, which we all did until bedtime.
Today, we went to Middlebury and prowled all the used book stores. I bought three Jessamyn West novels (inspired by my admiration for this Jessamyn) and a new copy of The Secret Garden. Middlebury is a great little college town, full of interesting shops and bookstores. We had brunch, and shopped, until we were worn out. Mom took the long, scenic route home, we stopped at a yard sale and made friends with a cat, and went on home. I had promised my mom that I would see the new Highlander movie with her, so we did that this evening. I didn't get most of it, since I have only seen the first movie, and never watched the series. Mom loved it, though, and I didn't mind gazing at Adrian Paul for two hours...
Visited with my big brother for an hour or so, and now I'm going to catch up on my journal reading, and head off to bed. I don't want to go home, and back to work -- my next break will be JournalCon, which I'm terribly excited about...
I'm in Vermont for the long weekend, visiting my mom. Say hi to Mom, everyone! It's always relaxing -- two dogs and two cats to play with, and my brother lives right next door. At the moment, I'm sitting here in my pajamas, drinking coffee and mulling over the idea of actually taking a shower. I suppose I really should, since Katia and her boyfriend will be here later this afternoon, to spend the night and go to the Vermont State Fair with us. (Cheesy midway rides, rigged games, livestock and fried dough, woooo!)
My trip here was irritating, as usual. I left for the bus station late, which means I forgot to leave the rent check for Beth (sorry, Beth...) and probably forgot to pack a few things I'll need. I realized, as I was packing, that the one pair of comfortable shorts I own is disgustingly filthy, and so could not be brought with me. Mom and I spent yesterday evening wandering around the mall looking for a pair of shorts for me -- I couldn't find any that fit, which sent me into a deep blue funk. I finally bought a pair of jeans, which I'll cut off into shorts if I ever get my butt into the shower.
My mom is making stuffed animals talk to me. Long story. Don't ask.
Once I actually got out of my apartment and onto the oppressively-hot T bus, I got stuck sitting wedged between an old guy who fidgeted and elbowed me in the ribs every three seconds or so, and a weird-looking guy who kept singing bits of "What's New, Pussycat" into my ear. When I shifted in my seat to grab my bag at the T station, Oldy McElbows bellowed "Excuse me, miss!" into my ear -- apparently I brushed against him. I refrained from telling him that, since my kidney is probably terminally bruised from his flailing around in the seat, he had no room to complain. Rushed onto the train, to South Station, then rushed to the Greyhound ticket area, grabbed a cheeseburger for lunch, then rushed off to the bus. Switched seats after the woman in front of me asked if I minded if she reclined her seat -- I said yes, I did, because the seats are pretty cramped for anyone over 5'2". She said okay, then reclined the seat onto my kneecaps anyway. The seat I moved to ended up being a row or two ahead of a woman with two very rowdy kids, one of which kept climbing into the seat behind me and alternately kicking my seat and hanging from the back of it, using my hair for leverage. Luckily, someone eventually wanted to sit there, so the hyper kid had to move.
It was unbelievably humid and warm here last night, so running errands was just plain miserable. By the time we got home, I was sweaty, my shoes had rubbed blisters on my feet, and I was in the throes of raging PMS. (Too much information? Sorry...) It's nicer out today -- Mom wants to go yard saling for a while, then Katia should be here -- I'm terribly excited about meeting her, since we have been email friends for quite some time. She was one of the nicest people during the whole divorce thing, and we have never actually met in person. Of course, I'm nervous, too -- what if she meets me, and finds me annoying in person? What if she finds that she doesn't like me after all? Fret... I'm sure it will be fine. And now I must go shower, I'm starting to disgust myself.