What am I? I am fine mostly. Angry sometimes. Feeling vindictive, others. To be entirely honest, I have sent some text messages along the lines of “I am so sad and I miss you so much” not because I was overcome with emotion. But because I knew it would hurt pretty bad to get that message. And I think about how hurtful he was sometimes. That if I ever complained that I didn’t get enough, he would say “but it is better than nothing, isn’t it?” Leaving me trapped by a veiled threat that I should just swallow the spoonful I was granted or I could get nothing.
Sigh.
So I’m just chugging along. Trying to keep busy. Waiting for the suck to be over.
I vaguely wish to write of the lunacy that was Friday night’s birthday outing dinner for R: the uber-butchy German waitress who danced on the table. The piece of fried shnitzel that I attempted to eat, but failed to as it was about a square footage of food. The extreme loudness, exacerbating by the Euro-Techno-Pop rendition of doo-wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-doo.
I could also write about the date I had on Saturday, which included a viewing of Zombie Strippers at the Parkway. It truly was about strippers that were zombies. They stripped and then ate people. And as time went on, they sort of decayed, but continued to strip. Mmm hmm.
Or I could write about going to the Albany Bulb with Tom, which was a super neat place to learn about. And it was really good to see my Tomas. It did my heart some good.
And then there was Jua, who is HUGE again, and still has 6 more weeks to ferment. And Aaron, who’s just about 2 and talking a lot, but I can’t understand a damn thing he says, so I have to look to Jua to translate.
I could even talk about the profound amount of junk that I ate this weekend. Or that I went to swim laps for the first time in ages, because I got a new speedo, which has cut-outs on the sides that are rather sassy.
And yet.
I’d rather not…
margaret edith 