Crying is the Refuge of Plain Women

Look internets…I’m sorry. I know I haven’t posted since mid last week. I have hardly even thought about you really. I was too worried about these things:

♥ Moving (which is almost done minus some chairs and my home desktop which only works on odd days, and sometimes not even then)
♥ Him coming home and having some really incredible *getting to (re) know you* ;) time
♥ Paying bills to stupid people whom, in my opinion, don’t deserve my hard earned money.
♥ Taking cranberry pills so I don’t pee blades (I was pretty sure you needed to know that part)
♥ Looking in my empty pantry and wondering how I was going to buy groceries when I have way more important items on the top of my list (new jeans)

So, after all of that I’m sure you understand. It would be hard not to I’d imagine.

Moving is stressful! It causes people to fight. It almost made me cry my one tear! Instead I saved that tear for last night and used it on something silly. I have all these weird ideas of how I should handle situations on my own instead of being the typical girl who can’t do it and has her man do it for her and it makes me rather stubborn to say the least. When he offers even the littlest bit of assistance I clam up and get upset and he gets frustrated because he just wants to fix it; but I can’t let him. And so….after some silence and my one tear he grabbed my hand and somehow it just worked itself out. I’ll be glad when this week is over.

Work is mad. It is the Mad Hatter himself! Meetings on top of meetings. Organic-ness, Gap and Non Gap. Confusion. We can’t write off discounts. Applications are giving errors. I have a mile high pile of paperwork and I can’t get out of a meeting long enough to take care of it. (and we all know that blogging really has to come before work when you’ve neglected your love for as many days as I have).. I’ve actually started filing things on my FLOOR because I can’t get the assistant to find boxes for me and apparently they are hidden deeper than Atlantis and God FORBID we just buy new ones. Not that there is anywhere to store them once I’ve filed them. Every inch of every spare area in this building is being used by other papers. We’ve been working on getting a secured storage unit for over a year. Yes, this is how it works in my world.

My tan is getting pretty kick ass tough. At least the important things in life are in line.

Rain Rain Go Away

On Moving: I hate it

On Rain: I hate it

On needing a hair cut but not being able to get an appointment this century: I hate it

The answer to all of my problems? New shoes! Okay I had to say that because, well, it’s me and you were all probably expecting it (and also because I did buy new shoes and I love them! BCBG’s are my new best friends today!).

Oh one more

On (not) boyfriends going out of town on business for a week: I hate it :( and I’ll miss him dammit!!!

Disclaimer: Blogs lacking substance. Sorry. But my arms are looking nice and tan! That is nice. Not that it will help me move boxes faster….but still.

Red Pill Blue Pill. No Pill? I'll Kill!

I quite smoking. I quite smoking. I quite smoking.



God I need a cigarette right now.

I get this way in times of extreme anxiety. Too much. Too much everything. Too much stress, too much work, too much family, too much friends (i know shut up), TOO MUCH!!! If I was drunk I could smoke otherwise they just make me sick; but right now I am imagining the nicotine blurring my senses for just a few very pleasant moments. If there was ever a time I regreted quiting it would be right this second.

Instead I wait for the drugs to kick in. The legal kind. I swear by them you know, these legal drugs. I would feel much better about brewing up a cup of Mary Jane tea but our government is afraid of it SO it isn't quite as simple as just wanting some. They'll let me poison my blood with this little white pill that sends me into a somewhat comotose state but they won't (legally) allow me to burn a bowl of greenery which is much more natural.

I've been so anxious lately that I can't even write. The big move is coming up sooner than expected and I've barely begun to pack let alone contemplate how I will actually get my things from one location to the other. Carrying a bed alone is a difficult thing I would imagine. I refuse to ask my family for help other than to borrow their truck. I refuse to ask "him" for any help as he has made it perfectly clear that he feels OBLIGATED to assist me. My stubborn streak says, "I'm perfectly capable! I don't need your God damn assistance!!! I'll move my whole fucking house all alone and I won't bitch for one minute". If only that were true, or possible. So now I'm running through a list of ex boyfriends in my head. "Hmm.....who is the most broke? If I throw in a 24 pack of beer the most desperate man will help me. Maybe I'll have to do pizza or something also". This is beginning to sound like a pricey move when in all reality my friends should be happy to help; especially him. I've only cleaned his house, done his dishes, and given him the best sex of his life fore near on a year now; it's the least he can do.

It just occured to me that looking at pictures of my exhusband is weird. No other word for it just.....weird.

There are days when I wish I didn't have baggage and today is one of them. Doom and gloom!!! It must be because the sun was hiding today. Come out come out wherever you are; or I'll cut off your fucking balls you stupid bastard!

My goodness I'm so cheerful I can hardly handle myself. You see, when I'm like this I make no sense. Nonsense. Nonsense is good sense. The pill has begun to do it's magic. Should I be ashamed of my reliance on these toxins? If I should I'm not. Before them, or before the green I should say, I was a basket case. Now, on a usual day, I am calm(ish) and content. On nights like tonight my mind won't stop and I feel no shame in swallowing some happiness.

Note: Blogs have been lacking substance. Many apologizes for this fact. Let me move, let me settle, let me make a home where my past life won't haunt my dreams and perhaps I will find that substance I speak of.