Sponsor me in the 2005 MS Walk! Why? Read here.
So I�m feeling better now than I was yesterday. Yesterday was a tough day. On Sunday, I�d started off in the Supermetro to the Boyfriend�s on my way back from Christmas shopping. About halfway to his house, I got off one highway and attempted to merge onto another, when I stepped on the gas and heard a huge noise. It was this big roar, then a loud hum. Then the hum stuck around. Loudly. To the point where I couldn�t hear anything but the hum. Now, I don�t know much about cars, but I know they aren�t supposed to make that noise.
I�ve been driving around for the past month and a half with the scarlet letter on my windshield. The garage slapped that big R for rejection on there when I failed inspection because of an exhaust leak. Since then, I�ve known I had a problem, but have been avoiding getting it fixed, despite the fact that my "R" sticker expires December 1. But somewhere on Sunday evening, my luck ran out.
By the time I got to the Boyfriend�s, I was just praying the car would make it there. I pulled into the condo complex and heard the unmistakable plink of metal hitting the ground as I went over the speed bumps. I crossed my fingers all the way to his building parked and held my breath as I looked under the car.
There�s a pipe that attaches the engine to the muffler. Or, it�s supposed to attach the engine to the muffler. Right now, mine attaches the muffler to the air, or to the speed bump, depending on the circumstances. The engine is just pushing exhaust out a big pipe-shaped hole right now. Even with my limited vehicular knowledge, I know this is a bad thing.
So the Supermetro was parked in the condo parking lot, and I was unexpectedly stranded at the Boyfriend�s. Not necessarily a bad thing, but since I had to work yesterday and had not an ounce of work stuff with me, I was less-than-thrilled. I went inside and stole a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, threw the clothes I was wearing in the wash (thankfully, they were work-appropriate), and hoped for the best. I came to work yesterday in the same clothes I�d been wearing the day before (which thankfully no one else knew, but it just felt wrong), my hair pulled back in a pony tail, no makeup, just my glasses. I felt like I didn�t belong here all day, and it showed. Someone asked me if I was sick. Not that I wear a ton of makeup, but my eyelashes are blonde, and without my mascara, I look half-asleep. I was irritable all day. Yesterday was a tough day.
In the meantime, I still have no car, which is making Thanksgiving week difficult. I�m supposed to drive to my Nana�s house on Wednesday night, which I obviously can�t do now. My mom wants me to take the train up there from work tomorrow, but that means I need to be packed tonight and bring all that crap with me to work in the morning. No thank you. Not interested. I can catch a train at 8:30 Thursday morning that will get me to the commuter rail stop at the end of Nana�s street at 9:07. That doesn�t leave me out of much. I think that should be fine. My mom disagrees.
I understand why she wants me there Wednesday. This is a tough holiday for my family. It�s the first Thanksgiving (and the first holiday my grandmother has hosted) since my grandfather died in February. My grandmother, who was diagnosed just after 4th of July with non-Hodgkin�s Lymphoma, has to start radiation next week. It�s important to her that we spend the holiday together. But as I look at it, the choice is easy�she can either get me Wednesday night, and I�ll arrive, cranky and irritated, about half an hour before she goes to sleep, or she can get me Thursday morning when I�ll be awake and happy. No contest, as far as I can see. Why can�t my mom see that?
On a completely different topic, my high school boyfriend is in town for Thanksgiving. The HSBF and I have been friends since we met in 5th grade in 1980. We started dating in 1986, and remained a couple off-and-on for the next eight years. He lives in LA now, the main reason we ended up not-together, and has a new girlfriend (who, coincidentally, also grew up in Massachusetts, 20 minutes away from our hometown. Weird!). We�re still friends, the HSBF and I. He�s coming in to my apartment tonight to participate in our Tuesday night ritual of dinner and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I haven�t seen him in about two years. For so long, he was the person who knew me best in the world. Seeing him will be strange, but good. He�ll also get to meet the Boyfriend. They actually remind me a lot of each other, maybe not surprisingly. The HSBF met the Artboy once. Artboy was unsure of what to make of HSBF and I still being friends, so he chose to just behave like a dick. I don�t expect a repeat of that tonight. The Boyfriend handles himself so much better.
Ahh�And I end up back at the Artboy�Carla gave me the invitations to our Christmas party the other day. I�ve been making the guest list to send out. On my private list, the one I don�t share with Chris as we�re making party plans, I have the Artboy�s name. I don�t think he�d come. I want to send him the invitation anyway. I just can�t let it go. Can�t just let him go. I can�t believe he�s just chosen to NOT be a part of my life.
Of course, I�m not sure the Boyfriend would be quite so gracious about that. Dinner with the HSBF is one thing. The Artboy in my living room is quite another.
I�ve been thinking some more about the process of letting go and getting over. About filling the space the lack-of-Artboy has left. Maybe I just don�t want to fill it. Maybe I just need to heal around it.
"There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better, some are gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments with lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living, in my life I�ve loved them all.
But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares with you.
And these memories lose their meaning when I think of love as something new.
Although I�ll never lose affection for people and things that went before,
Though I�ll often stop and think about them, in my life I love you more."
-The Beatles ("In My Life")
---------------------------------------------
Something to say about this entry?
Add your comments here (0 people have spoken already)
< I wish you a merry shopping season | Sex talk >
