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First, a word of advice: Don�t ever try to inhale cereal. It hurts a lot and makes you cough for many, many hours. It�s amazing how many sharp edges a sugar-coated piece of puffed wheat can have.
Next, a question for the women out there in Diaryland (sorry, guys, if this is just TMI for you�you can avert your eyes and skip to the next paragraph if you want to): Do the rest of you find that in the few days before your period starts that your nipples refuse to stand down? I feel like I�m carrying small rocks around in my bra, and have for three days. I�ve got the head-on Jennifer Aniston look going, and NOTHING I do seems to help. I just wondered if that happened to other people, too.
(Great, now I�m going to get Google Hits for �Jennifer Aniston Nipples��just what I wanted!)
I�m running on low steam today. After my great night�s sleep on Sunday, I was ready to conquer at least small villages yesterday, if not the world. I made it through my Monday without serious complications. I was in a good mood on my ride home. Then I arrived at the apartment and came face-to-face with Grumpy Chris.
Grumpy Chris was sitting on the couch absently watching the History Channel. He managed a hello, then went back to his TV stupor. I sat down for a few minutes and watched with him while I recovered from the climb up the hill to my front door. He complained about the way his day had gone for a while, told me my cousin had called, flipped through a few channels (just as I�d get interested in whatever was on, he�d change it. I hate that.). He asked if I still wanted to go grocery shopping. I told him I did, but that I had to eat something first because I was bordering on headache stage.
I went into the kitchen and perused its meager offerings. Deciding to make some rice to tide me over until we got back from the store, I measured out water, set it to boil, added the rice, replaced the cover, lowered the heat and sat down to wait the 10 minutes until it was ready.
He came in and sniffed around the stove. �What are you making?� he asked, hand poised over the handle on the pan cover.
�Rice. Don�t open that, please.� When his hand closed over the knob, I repeated my request. �DON�T OPEN THAT, please!�
He glared at me and stepped away. �Why, will the rice demons get me?�
�No, but you�ll disturb the cooking process.�
He walked back into the living room and sat back on the couch. �Next time, one �don�t open that� will be enough, Jen.�
�Well, Chris, you still had your hand on the pot. Obviously, once didn�t suffice.�
He paused for a second like he was measuring his words and then said, �I�m a grown man. If I want to ruin your rice, I will.�
He then shut the TV off and sat in the living room with only the fading sunlight to keep him company.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
�I�m a grown man�? �If I want to ruin your rice, I will�?
Is that any way to carry on a conversation with me?!
I didn�t open my mouth again until we were on the way out the door. I didn�t dare. I didn�t trust what would have come out of it.
Yeah, that conversation we didn�t have as a group the other day? My own personal version is coming soon. Only, this isn�t about Chris. This is about me, and my refusing to live in an unpleasant living situation. Ruin my rice, my ass!
So we went grocery shopping, and that was uneventful.
I did not buy more Snickers Eggs. I was very good this time.
We got home and I put away the groceries while he cut up the rotisserie chicken we�d bought. We were hungry. After dinner, I went into my room and stayed there for the rest of the night, speaking to him again only to say goodnight.
I messed around online for a while, read a couple new diaries, signed a couple guestbooks, checked my email.
There was a message in my inbox from HSBF Scott. He�d been reading yesterday�s entries, and wrote to ask me, in all my writing about the hard things I�ve faced in my life, between the Artboy and the abortion and Melissa, why I�ve never written about Lorne.
I told him, and I believed it when I answered his email, that it was because Lorne was a part of my life I don�t struggle with any more, while the things I�ve written about in here are things I continue to work with, trying to find places to settle them in my head. That is true.
But there�s a bigger truth, too. Lorne is something I don�t think about unless I have to. And maybe I have to more than I let myself realize.
So it�s probably another several parter on the way, kiddos. And it�s not a pretty story. But Scott is right�it�s one that should be told.
Oh, and by the way, I talked to the BARCC Volunteer coordinator this morning. Next volunteer orientation is May 29. Training runs for a month, three nights a week 6:30-9:30. I guess it�s an intense process. I feel ready to do it, though.
She told me there�s another Rape Crisis Center right down the street from my house, thinking I might be more interested in volunteering there. Locality-wise, it might be closer to me, but there are bigger reasons I want to volunteer at BARCC. I just haven�t shared them with her yet.
Tell someone you love them today, D-Landers. Hold them close and let them know how important it is to you that they�re part of your life. Appreciate the things you have.
I�m off to do just that.
More later.
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