ASW 731: I don’t see how my excuse can be your problem.
You should put that in your scrapbook
“
| — | Blake’s reaction to all 1309 photos we’ve gone through tonight. In other news, my best friend is a giant prick. |
Today I went to two meetings and a discussion group for a presentation, worked for five hours, and took my dog out for numerous walks, but what made me most exhausted was the process of eating dinner.
hopeyoubehappy replied to your post: The ways in which the past 24 hours have made up for every stupid thing that’s happened in the past month:
You is ok?
I is great! Never been better. :D It’s been an excellent weekend and people have been significantly less stupid.
The ways in which the past 24 hours have made up for every stupid thing that’s happened in the past month:
- Got some reassuring news about things that could be much worse but the best case scenario is currently happening
- Cheese and ice cream and Grey’s party with Mieka last night
- Cuddles this morning because Alex is basically a teddy bear
- Got to nine stamps on my Timothy’s Coffee Card, meaning my next drink is free
- Mum gets back in four days!
- Summer classes are going really well
- Realized that I basically don’t have to go to class for this half of the semester because there’s no midterm or exam
- Coffee date with Helen today, and those are always wonderful in 800 different ways
- I kinda feel like I have my shit together? For once?
- Naturalizer shoe sale weekend!
- Went through my Thankful Box this morning and realized the world really is a wonderful place, despite idiotic people who have often convinced me otherwise
- Finished knitting another scarf
- Actually had a day off from both school and work today
- Work is going well because I get to work the busy shifts and leave when it gets boring, basically
- And now I need to stop listing great things because I need to read up on state-building in the Middle East for my group meeting tomorrow aaaaah
Me: I'm already out and about. It's 7am on my day off.
Blake: There is something seriously wrong with you. And way to wake me up this early on my day off. Jerk.
Me: You had yesterday off. And the day before. I'm not sorry.
Blake: ... I hate that I tell you everything.
They hang around, hitting on your friends
or else you never hear from them again.
They call when they’re drunk, or finally get sober,
they’re passing through town and want dinner,
they take your hand across the table, kiss you
when you come back from the bathroom.
They were your loves, your victims,
your good dogs or bad boys, and they’re over
you now. One writes a book in which a woman
who sounds suspiciously like you
is the first to be sadistically dismembered
by a serial killer. They’re getting married
and want you to be the first to know,
or they’ve been fired and need a loan,
their new girlfriend hates you,
they say they don’t miss you but show up
in your dreams, calling to you from the shoe boxes
where they’re buried in rows in your basement.
Some nights you find one floating into bed with you,
propped on an elbow, giving you a look
of fascination, a look that says I can’t believe
I’ve found you. It’s the same way
your current boyfriend gazed at you last night,
before he pulled the plug on the tiny white lights
above the bed, and moved against you in the dark
broken occasionally by the faint restless arcs
of headlights from the freeway’s passing trucks,
the big rigs that travel and travel,
hauling their loads between cities, warehouses,
following the familiar routes of their loneliness.
“
| — | Kim Addonizio, “Ex-Boyfriends” (via fleurishes) |
