Woe is we
What a feeling sorry for myself boozefest THIS weekend turned out to be. I had a post I drunkenly typed on Friday night that I would absolutely love to read now, but the internet ate it. I should probably be grateful the internet had my back like that because what I do remember? Makes me cringe.
I don’t recall what I was drinking that night, either. Beer, maybe? At some point this weekend, I did switch to grape vodka which makes my toes tingle, my eyes glisten while having me feel - oh. So pretty.
Before you go thinking I’m on some Valley of the Dolls type shit over here, trust me when I tell you I’m pretty much a lightweight. I’m talking 2 drinks in and I’m looking for chandeliers to party from.
Friday night, I talked to R. It was the 2nd time I’ve talked to him since he’s been gone and I think I’m still in a state of denial that he’s going to be gone for, like, a year and a half. I want to say to him: STOP PLAYING. You proved your point already! I’ll be nicer! Just come back!
But, I think he’d come back if he could. Probably not to Phoenix but back to ME and that’s all that really matters, right? Home is where the heart is.
Feel free to throw up now.
I am going to have to get better when R calls, or he’s not going to WANT to call. I wasn’t blubbering all over myself or anything, and I did put up a pretty good front for the first 3 minutes of conversation.
But then, R had to go and ask how my week was. I feel he was baiting me, don’t you? Why would he ask such a LOADED question such as that? Ass!
Let’s see… how was my week… *scratches chin*
- I was a zombie at work and that my job is even paying me for a moment I was at my desk seems like a joke.
- I was 10-15 minutes late every day since I had to make my own coffee, pack my own lunch and iron my own pants. (I’m fully aware R spoils the shit out of me. You’d think I’d be missing some scoundrel like this??)
- I’ve eaten my weight (and yours, too) in fast food.
- I drank beer like its NOT 10,000 calories a bottle.
- I’m spending money like a drug dealer on shit I don’t need, nor particularly want.
- I find reasons to not be home when part of me just wants to be at home so I can mope.
- The house is a mess because I can’t find it within myself to clean it.
- The teen did the dishes stacked up in the kitchen (he had been at his Dad’s, so they were all mine) with nary a complaint and looked at me with pity in his eyes after I told him thank you.
My week? Has been great.
R said I have to be patient and I told him he had to be patient with me, too, and he agreed. We made a patience pact. Patience, people, patience.
I’m going to attempt to finish cleaning the house. If I don’t the messiness is just going to further throw me down the black hole of despair and - it’s not a good look, ya know? I’m much too cute for wallowing.
Take care, kids.
P.S. Please don’t tell me to “be strong” or to “keep busy”. If I hear those words one more time, I’m going to scream. And I don’t want to yell at you, because I know you mean well.
To end on a lighter note, for your listening pleasure - R’s favorite song of the moment.