Familiar Territory

Tonight, I went out on a date with Todd. Unlike my date on Saturday with G, this date was comfortable and familiar.

We went to one of our old haunts, but seeing as we both have been hit hard in the wallet in this scary new economy, we downsized our order. No alcohol. No filet...just some shared appetizers and cheap salads. Even though our menu selections were different, our conversation and relatationship dance were very much the same.

What's really different is the fact that he now has a new girlfriend. Oh, he might not be calling her that, but she is calling him her boyfriend, so it's really all one and the same when it comes right down to it.

It's very difficult for me to navigate these new waters. What was once appropriate conversation and expectations no longer apply. I find myself almost as unsure with Todd these days as I was on my first date with G. My heart still falls when I am hit with the thought that I may have lost him for good. My heart also quickens with excitement when he compliments the way I look and adds that he couldn't wait to see me.

Our physical relationship has also changed. This change is the most difficult to peg as either "bad" or "good." I no longer feel completely safe with him, and yet...I no longer feel obligated to him, either. This makes the times we connect physically almost as exciting as those first few times we explored each other's bodies. If you asked my pants, they'd tell you that it's almost as if this is a brand new relationship; the excitement is just that frantic and wrought with sexual tension as those first few months. I can't wait to put my hands on him or to feel his hands on me.

Yet...I am not sure how healthy this is for me. I have a few friends that caution me: "Step away from the sexy young man in the goatee" they warn. "His indecision and inability to stick by your side is not good for you."

And so I continue to be confused by this...by a relationship that hasn't really ended. By the fire in my pants every time I see him. By the days that go by without a call or a contact. By the fact that we still love each other, even though our love has morphed into something different and almost unrecognizable.

Are my friends right? They probably are - after all, I don't allow stupid people to be my friends. So perhaps that makes me the stupid one, still wading in familiar territory even though there are treacherous landmines around us. I am not willing to turn back just yet...so I'll keep moving forward one unbalanced step at a time, and hope to God I don't trigger an explosion.

A kiss is still a kiss...

Okay, my dear faithful readers, here's one for Ripley's Believe It or Not: I have not kissed a guy, other than my ex-boyfriend (with whom I "enjoyed" a ten+year long relationship) in about 9 years. (Yes, I did kiss someone else when we were on a Ross and Rachel break back in 2000.) So, imagine my great surprise when my Saturday night date not only kissed me once...but kissed me again and again and again.

Now, I know I sound like a school girl, but it really is strange kissing someone new. (Strange good, but strange nonetheless.) The thing about being in a long term relationship is you know how to "be" with the other person. You know what works...what the other person likes, and that person knows what you like. So, being with someone new is, well, a bit daunting to say the least. "Am I doing it right?" "Should I touch him more?" "Does he like it when I stick my tongue down his windpipe?" These are just a few of the questions that ran through my head on Saturday night.

So while I had a great time on the date (a Widow Maker, a visit to the local car show, and then a movie at his house), the thing that stands out are those kisses. He kissed so differently than my ex-boyfriend; not different bad, just... differently. It felt so new and exciting and full of promise...I felt like a teenager again.

Of course, at forty-something or other. feeling like a teenager isn't necessarily a good thing. But, it's not entirely a bad thing, either. In the "cons" column, there's that darn teenage insecurity, the hesitancy, and a lack of confidence. However, in the "pros" column, there's that teenage excitement - that heart-quickening, pants-on-fire, newness of it all.

After one date, I could not say at all where this will go, if anywhere. The guy is ten years younger than me, and is one of those outdoor types that seem to be the majority here in Reno. Still...there's a promise of a call and that's enough for now.

Earth Girls Are Easy

All I can say is, man, that was some date! Gee golly willickers, grandma...you never told me a first date could be that good. Maybe I need to go on more first dates?


**More to come when I have recovered...

It's A Date!

Wow. I can't believe it. I just got asked out on an honest-to-goodness real live date. Now, I only hope he turns out to be a real live guy...!

But seriously folks...I can see myself falling in love already. Why? Because he's taking me out for a Widow Maker at Claim Jumper. There is no faster way to my heart than a Widow Maker... except for maybe a glass of wine.

There's only one problem: He asked me out tonight for tomorrow night. Now the authors of "The Rules" are yelling at me, saying things like "PJammy, don't you know you're supposed to pretend you're busy on Saturday night?" and "PJammy, you are acting much too available...he should have asked you out three days in advance!"

To them I say "Holy crap, you Virgin Mothers! Haven't you ever had a Widow Maker before? I can't say 'no' to a Widow Maker! You guys are frickin' crazy!"

They won't listen to me, though. They keep yapping and yapping, chiding me for being so easy. I tell you, if they think eating a Widow Maker makes me easy, they haven't seen nothing yet!

Eight Steps to Reaching One's Dreams

Someone blogged about eight steps they took to reach their dreams. In honor of their very boring, I mean, interesting post, here are mine:

1) Drink two bottles of wine, then pass out on the couch. Dream about what I really want. Oh yes, that would be sobriety.

2) Wake up. Go to AA. Grab on to some sobriety before it walks out the door.

3) Once sober, go back home and think about what I really, really want.

4) Write it down so I won't forget it: I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha.

5) Hire an interpreter so I can figure out what it is I just wrote down.

6) Decide that what I really really want is to be a Spice Girl.

7) Decide on a name: Scary Spice is already taken, so I register "Scarier Spice" and sign up for dance lessons.

8) Buy real cool outfits that show off my cellulite, and start singing on street corners, waiting to be discovered.

I was Mooned!

A friend of mine and I try to meet at least once a week for a walk around the Sparks Marina. (Well, we actually take two laps around, but you know, that's not important to anyone or anything, other than my thighs.) We decided to meet on a Friday this week, so that we could hit Happy Hour after our walk.

While we were sipping our three dollar glasses of wine at The Anchor, we noticed a guy setting up a table and stuff near the water. We were curious. Was he getting ready to have some sort of a party? Was he selling something?

Each time he dropped off a new load of stuff, our interest was increased. After noticing what looked to be a beach ball and a bunch of maps, we chugged down the rest of our wine and left The Anchor to see what in the world was going on.

"Okay, I'm curious," I said. "You piqued my interest!"

The man was kind of cute, in a goofy sort of way, so of course I immediately looked at his ring finger. Damn. Married. Oh well. I stopped being disappointed long enough to listen to him...he told us that he was an astronomer and was doing some quickie astronomy lessons in the park.

He asked us if we wanted to see the moon, and I said "Yes!" He said "Okay, little girl, look into my telescope" and then he unzipped his pants. No he didn't...I was just checking to see if you were still reading. But, he did lead me over to his telescope and there I saw it...the moon! It was so cool to see the craters and other moony things while the sun was still out.

After we all looked at his telescope (because by then a small crowd had gathered), he gave us a short lesson and sent us on our way. He did tell us that in 25 more minutes, he would be showing off Venus. I was tempted to stay, but decided that after a glass of wine I could look at my very own Venus at home, compliments of a bendy body and a hand-held mirror.

That's Just What You Are

In our endeavor we are never seeing eye to eye
No guts to sever so forever may we wave goodbye
And you're always telling me that it's my turn to move
When I wonder what could make the needle jump the groove
I won't fall for the oldest trick in the book
So don't sit there and think you're off of the hook
By saying there is no use changing 'cause

That's just what you are
That's just what you are

Almost from the moment I agreed to exclusivity with Todd, I was told again and again and again why I couldn't be "the one." It was always up to me to make a move - a move to change something that he wasn't happy with. He wanted sex - he got it. He wanted certain types of sex. He got it. He wanted to marry me...I finally said yes. He wouldn't marry me until I lived with him for "a while." I moved in. And yet...nothing ever changed. It was always my move. Yet, the moves never got me closer to him than I was on the day I agreed to exclusivity.

Acting steady always ready to defend your fears
What's the matter with the truth, did I offend your ears
By suggesting that a change might be a thing to try
Like it would kill you just to try and be a nicer guy
It's not like you would lose some critical piece
If somehow you moved point a to point b
Maintaining there is no point changing 'cause

That's just what you are
That's just what you are

I listened to and accepted Todd's fears and his struggle with living in a neuro-typical world while saddled with Asperger's. I defended his actions to friends, family and even myself. And when I would suggest changes he could make to incorporate me more into his life, he would just end up pushing me further away.

Now I could talk to you till I'm blue in the face
But we still would arrive at the very same place
With you running around and me out of the race

We have talked and talked and talked and talked, and it doesn't get us anywhere. We even tried counseling - and it didn't work. I suspected that he wanted the counselor to tell him to break up with me, and when that didn't happen, he became frustrated and we stopped going. So, there were were, back in the same place. He pushed me further away by dating other people and continuing to exclude me from his social circle, yet got on my case for not being a better life partner.

It's difficult to be someone's life partner when they're excluding you from their life. I see now I shouldn't have been surprised that I couldn't make that happen. Yet at the time, I ran that race as if my life depended on it, not realizing I wasn't even in the race, and was instead running on a treadmill and not getting anywhere.

So maybe you're right, nobody can take
Something older than time and hope you could make
It better, that would be a mistake
So take it just so far

'cause that's just what you are
That's just what you are
That's just what you are

Now he says that there is no way to fix our relationship - too much damage has been done. For years, I took the blame for the damage. After all, if I had been a better girlfriend, more nurturing, more sexual, more...fill in the blank, we wouldn't be here. Or at least that's what I was led to believe. Now I realize that it wasn't me at all, but the boundaries he put up that caused the most damage.

Acting steady always ready to defend your fears
What's the matter with the truth, did I offend your ears
You're like a sleepwalking man, it's a danger to wake you
Even when it is apparent where your actions will take you

That's just what you are
And that's just what you are
That's just what you are
That's just what you are

--Lyrics by Aimee Mann

I want...

Wine. Every cell in my body is screaming for a glass of wine. Oh I know, I should just have one, but see, I have a skills test tomorrow for a potential position with the local university. And, well, every once in a while wine will trigger a migraine. So, as much as I want a glass, I know that tonight is probably not the night to do it.

I have tried to unwind from a stressful weekend in other ways. Long hot bath. Pedicure. Blah, blah, blah. Nice, sure, but just not the same as curling up on the couch with a glass of wine while my body starts to relax slowly but surely as the alcohol begins its healing journey through my veins.

I guess my next attempt at relaxation will be a mug of chamomile tea. It works just as well - but it's just simply not as much fun to drink.

TMI

One of my favorite bosses of all time organized a reunion luncheon for those of us who had been laid off of the now defunct company we had once all been a part of. That luncheon was today. I was hesitant about going, as I have now been laid off again and did not feel as if I had a lot of "happy chat" in me. But, a woman I worked closely with at the organization insisted I go, and sweetened the pot by treating. How could I resist?

After we were all assembled, my boss asked us all to go around the table and brief everyone as to what we'd been up to since our company disbanded. Thankfully, I wasn't the only loser, I mean, laid off person there. Several hadn't found work since the company went up in smoke, and others were like me: had found new jobs and gotten laid off again.

One guy, Bob, said that he still hadn't found work, so he was spending a lot of time with Ellen DeGeneres and the cast of Friends. That got a laugh. When it was my turn, I said "I'm gainfully unemployed, so I spend my days crying, drinking, and marinating in my pajamas." Bob said "You should try spending some time with my Friends; they might not convince you to put on pajamas, but they might help with the crying."

Thanks, Bob, for the advice. Now where's the remote?

Suddenly Last Summer

I watched the movie "Suddenly Last Summer" recently via the streaming video feature on Netflix. I love this feature! Kind of makes me wish I had a TiVo, so I could just stream the videos on to my TV. But I digress...back to the movie.

If you haven't seen the movie or the play, the basic theme is that a guy named Sebastian takes his beautiful cousin (played by Elizabeth Taylor) on a trip. He uses her as bait to reel in the pretty boys, then he does whatever it is he does to them (in the movie, it's never quite clear, but it is obvious that he is gay and makes moves on the young men after his cousin brings them to him). He used to use his mother for this task, but she apparently got too old to attract the "tasty" men (the use of the word "tasty" and "delicious" is ironic, it turns out). See, after he tries his little deviant tricks on some island boys, he is repayed for his trickery by being attacked and eaten by the boys (and not the good kind of eating, by the way).

The movie (and play) were touted as quite forward thinking for 1958. However, one can't help but wonder if the real theme is that homosexuality is wrong and should be punished by cannibalistic young men. Or, perhaps the theme could be that what one thinks is fun in private is shunned once all the townspeople find out they did the same thing? Or...is the real theme people taste good after baking in the island sun for weeks on end?

I don't know. I'm confused. However, I don't think I'll be making any trips to any third world islands any time soon, with or without my cousin Sebastian.

Christmas Special

Today, I received an email from "Santa's Slave" asking me if I wanted to get laid on Christmas. No, I really don't, but thanks for the offer. I find that at this time of year, it takes too much effort to go through all the trouble of being a top. I mean, gathering the toys, making the time, let alone thinking of creative ways to use lumps of coal is enough to make my head swim.

Instead what I really want is to see Joel McHale at GSR. And...I think I might be able to swing it. Todd is going to give me half the cost of the ticket, and I am fairly certain I can come up with the other half, as I just received a rebate in the mail reimbursing me for a club membership fee that was done away with.

So, I must apologize to Santa's Slave, for instead of filling up her "stocking" with lumps of coal, I must spend my time with Joel McHale. But, if Santa's Slave really needs it, I'm sure there's a willing reindeer out there somewhere.

Druish

Tonight before class began, one of the owners of the store said she had a funny story about a couple who came in earlier. When the girls asked if they could help the couple find anything, the man said "Yes, we are looking for books on Wick."

"Wick? Are you sure?"

"Yes," replied the man. "Wick."

"Perhaps you mean Wicca? Or maybe witch?"

"No...Wick. My wife, she's Druish and wants a book on Wick."

"That's funny," muttered another customer standing by. "She doesn't look Druish."

We had a good laugh at the couples' expense and decided that maybe it was time to design a Druish tradition. I'm sure it would involve lots of magical latkes and eight days of candle magic in December. As long as I could still wear a Yarmulke in a skyclad ritual, I suppose I'd be happy.

Inertia

After sleeping until 9 a.m. four days in a row, and staying in my pajamas until late afternoon, it's official: I'm depressed. I have no energy. I feel like a zombie and I don't want to do anything. Not even drink. And when I can't even muster enough energy to open a bottle of wine, I know I'm in trouble.

The problem is, I'm not sure what to do about it. When I lived with Todd, I couldn't afford to be depressed or experience massive amounts of time spent in Inertia Land. No matter what happened while I was living there, I got up every day at a respectable time, let the dogs out, made some coffee, and got myself moving. Most days, I went for a walk in the morning. This involved getting dressed...something that seems foreign to me now. The other day when it snowed? I went outside - twice - and shoveled in my pajamas and fleece robe cover. The only reason I didn't wear my slippers was because I didn't want them to get wet.

Today is a better day than yesterday. I got up earlier than usual (okay, it was because Schmutzy threw up a pile of slimy tinsel on the side of the bed, but I still got up). After cleaning it all up, I took a bath and got dressed. Okay, so I'm wearing sweats (one level up from jammies), but I am dressed. And clean. That's progress, right?

What isn't progress is the fact that my resume remains unwritten. I have these wonderful books full of expert guidance, and here I sit surrounded by them with absolutely no desire to actually open them.

How does one shake a bad case of inertia? It obviously takes more than a bath and donning a pair of sweats...although the bath is probably a step in the right direction.

Hi, My Name is PJammy

My friend Carmen told me that she believes any one who drinks alone at home is an alcoholic. If that's the case, then I'm definitely an alcoholic. Cheers to me.

Last Wednesday, I was laid off. One of the first things I did (after crying) was to call my parents to inform them of my bad news. Before we said good-bye, my mom and my dad both encouraged me to run a bath and drink a glass (or two) of wine to settle down. Does this make them enablers or just wise? I'm not sure what Carmen would say to that; I chose to believe they were wise, and so I followed their advice.

After opening up a bottle of wine and running a bath, I do admit that I felt a little calmer. Carmen might say numb, but you know, she's not writing this, is she?

One week and two bottles of wine later, I am in a slightly better head space. I realize that the job itself sucked the big red one. And while of course I hate that I'm without a job now, when the economy is in such bad shape, the constant heartburn I had has gone away. So has the feeling of dread and the fear of making a fatal mistake.

The atmosphere at QuadNet was not a good one; in fact, my faux boyfriend kept telling me the atmosphere was toxic and I should get out as soon as possible. But, the steady paycheck and solid benefits kept me there. Or rather, my fear of being without kept me there. When I think of it now, I had so much fear in me (fear of being without a job, fear of making a mistake, fear of not being liked, fear of not fitting in) that I am surprised that it took a layoff for me to hit the bottle. I probably should have been imbibing all along; it might have made the ride easier.

During the last two days, I received calls from friends wishing me well, validating my worth, and sending their love. After two such calls just today, I find myself drinking water and feeling better about my future. The bottle of wine I opened last night remains untouched. The wine did it's job; now it's time for me to do mine.

I think it's time to cork the bottle and get on to the next step...whatever that might be.

Masks

As class was winding down tonight, my instructor told us that the store would be hosting a Yule Ball this year. The ball will be a fancy affair...very dressy, and everyone must wear a mask. It's a masquerade ball! The kind depicted in movies. I found myself getting excited.

And then it hit me that I wanted a date for this event.

A date. A live actual date. Yikes. I haven't had a date in, oh....well, too long. (Or is it not long enough? I can never keep it straight.)

I immediately knew who I wanted as my date, too. The only problem? I've only seen this guy twice; once he waited on me when I was buying something at the booth he was manning at PPD. The other time in passing at the psychic fair.

In other words, I don't know him.

Okay, so this guy is obviously not a viable candidate, as I didn't write down his license plate number or get his name so I can stalk him like I do most guys. (Kidding. Kidding!)

But seriously, back to the ball. I must go, and I must have a date. And come on...seriously, who wouldn't want to go? I mean, there are masks!

Can she do it? Can she have a date before Yule? Only my hairdresser in the sky knows for sure.

Trading Spaces

When I was living in my own home in California, I used to dream of places. And not just the place, but me living in the place. Often, I dreamt of the same place. One place seemed to be in Portland, Oregon. It was a raised home - by that, I mean the home was on top of the garage. The home front had huge windows, and the home also had a tree which grew inside the house.

The dreams were fairly boring...nothing really ever happened in the dreams, or at least nothing that I remembered come morning. The only part of the dream that stood out was the place itself...the details of the home, how I felt in the home, and an overwhelming desire to go back to sleep so I could go back to the home.

Of all the places I dreamt of, I would say that the home in Oregon was one of my favorites. When I moved to Reno, though, the dreams stopped. For a while.

When it became clear that Todd and I were not going to be married, I started dreaming of places again. I often dreamt about the place in Oregon, but then sometimes I would dream of other places. Each place felt nice...the decor was usually welcoming, the homes bright and spacious.

It wasn't until I moved into my new place that the dreams stopped...well, that is, until a couple of months ago.

Oddly, the place I dream about now is really kind of dilapidated. It has some nice rooms, but it has an odd-shaped basement, and one must go down some crooked stairs and walk through an angular hallway to get to it. The basement is both enchanting and off-putting. The enchantment comes from the fact that it seems to be a fairly secret room, and could be made into anything I wanted it to become. The off-putting part comes from the fact that it is difficult to get to, and in quite a state of disrepair.

I do not understand why I'm having these dreams again. I know that I started having the dreams in California about the time I was contemplating leaving. And then the dreams started up again when it became clear that it was time to move out of Todd's home. Now, though, I'm not sure why I'm having them.

Even if I wanted to move (and honestly, I do think about it sometimes), I could not afford to do so now. I have a home, and as we all know, homes are not selling these days. I feel stuck in Reno...and maybe that's why I'm having the dreams. I'm stuck, and the only way I can get away is to dream myself away.

If that's the case, though, why in the world am I dreaming of a dilapidated home? I would much rather dream of a two-story home in Oregon, with walls of windows and a tree that grows inside the house. I don't care if it rains...I'd take rain over a broken-down home any day.

Spanking Good Time

"Come on, spank me! You know you want to!" This was said to me by a very young man at the 20 500 East Bar last night. The guy had obviously had a lot to drink...but then again, so did my friends and I. So what did I do? I spanked him.

He then proffered his buttocks to every woman at the table, but was denied by the rest. So, he came back to me, and I obliged him once, twice, three times again. Before I knew it, his friend came over and begged for a spanking. For some reason, it was different with this guy...and so I did not. It turned out my instincts were correct; the guy was married, and his wife was no where to be seen. He told one of the women at the table that it was okay...his wife was into it and wouldn't mind. Despite his best efforts to sway at least one of us to give him a spanking, we all denied him service and he went on his merry way.

Shortly after Married Guy With A Yen For A Spanking trotted back to his loud, drunk friends, the real entertainment began. The DJ was given his leave, and in his place was Chris, a one-man band. He started off with some disco, and we were soon all on the floor.

While we were grooving, the young man who had received a spanking, came up to me and said "This is for you!" He danced in front of me, and then he did the splits. Within seconds, he was back on his feet, beer still in his hand, and he danced away with a great big smile on his face.

Not to be outdone, the Married Guy With A Yen For Spanking danced over to the floor. He got another friend to join him, and they started a line dance. He shimmied, he shook, and a line of people joined up right behind him. When dared to do the splits, he did...he split off the dance floor and his merry band of drunkards joined him back at the table.

For the rest of the evening, we danced to the one-man band's music. Once in a while, one of the drunken young men would join us and beg for a spanking. When told a spanking would be theirs if they could replicate the splits move of their friend, they would sheepishly leave the dance floor. When we left, they were still there...drinking beer, making jokes, and toasting their friend, the spankee.

Betrayed

Tonight's plan was to stop by Todd's house to pick up a video, and then head home. When I pulled up in front of the house, I knew instantly something was wrong. The window of my old office had something in the window...I knew someone had been in it, but wasn't prepared for what was going to hit me when I walked through the door.

Todd greeted me at the door, and he said "I have a note here for you." I said "What does the note say? That you love me?" He said "Well, it does say that, but it's mostly an apology."

An apology? For what?

It turns out that he let Danielle have free reign in the space that used to be my office. She disconnected the VCR, unhooked the TV, and in other words, wreaked havoc in the space that was once mine.

Todd PROMISED me he would let me know before he ever let Danielle in there. He said if worse came to worse (scheduling wise) he would at least give me a week's notice, so I could remove whatever I didn't want a stranger to rifle through.

He did not.

Instead, some woman I don't even know went through EVERYTHING that was mine that was still left at the house. And, she wasn't even careful with any of it. My stuff is piled all over the room...books thrown on the bed, heaven knows what stuffed into garbage bags, and most of my furniture gone.

Words can't even begin to describe the amount of anger I feel. Anger that my stuff was just thrown around, as if it didn't matter. Anger that Todd didn't follow through on his promise. Anger at Danielle for being so careless with my things.

When I expressed my surprise and anger, Todd said "Well, it's been almost a year." And in fairness, it has. However, the times I have expressed wanting to come over to pack things up, he has either said he has had plans, or didn't want me there that particular weekend, or had seduced me away from packing to spend time with him instead.

Even in the last couple of weeks, I've expressed an interest in packing up. However, he has things going on, and didn't really want me there. So, this sudden desire to expunge me from his home has come as quite a surprise.

In my life, Todd was the one person I felt as if I could trust to stick to his word. Now that he hasn't, I feel as I can't trust anyone. I'm lost and angry and...and I guess a little depressed.

I cried all the way home, and cried some more at home. I hate that Danielle went through my things. I hated seeing everything piled and tossed around so carelessly. But most of all, I am most disappointed in Todd and his carelessness with his promise to me.

This will take a long time to recover from.

Steamed

I have a "friend" whom I meet periodically for a "latte." She has a latte addiction, and so she always assumes that when I meet her, I'll have one, too. I usually opt for herbal tea instead, because Dr. Atkins wouldn't approve of the latte.

She contacted me earlier this week to meet for a latte at Borders. I agreed to meet her there at 2 p.m. on Sunday. However, the plumber didn't leave until until just after two, so while he was playing around with my swamp cooler, I busied myself looking for her phone number. I found it and called; the number was disconnected.

What to do? I was pretty sure she gave me her cell number once upon a time, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I crossed my fingers and hoped I'd find her still at Borders by the time I got there.

When I arrived, I hurried to the cafe, just in case she was still there sipping her latte. No luck. I took a look around the store, starting in metaphysical (her usual hangout) and worked my way to sci-fi (her next favorite place to look). I didn't see her.

I found myself actually breathing a sigh of relief that I couldn't find her. Oh I knew she'd be mad at me for not being on time, but on the other hand she's one of those "friends" who isn't really. I am not sure why I feel so obligated to her, but it probably has something to do with my sense of loyalty. She has never done anything egregious; she just isn't the best friend a girl could have.

I ran some errands and emailed her when I got home. Sure enough, the reply was short and not-so-sweet. I could tell she was furious, and actually seemed to accuse me of not looking hard enough for her.

I feel slightly awful...but on the other hand, again slightly relieved. I figure it'll be another month or so before she wants to meet for a latte...if ever. Could this be over for good? One can only hope.

Hot and Sticky, Part 2

I waited and waited and waited and the plumber never did show up yesterday to fix my swamp cooler. So, me and the cats got naked in our little sweat lodge. We sat around cross-legged as we passed the peace pipe and tried not to curse the plumber for forgetting us.

This morning I called again, and the guy was apologetic. He sent someone over right away. Apparently he wasn't too apologetic, because he still charged me full price. Still, it was nice to feel the cold air coming out of the cooler.

As I started getting ready to go meet a friend, I heard a "kerplunk" sound come from the direction of the cooler. All of a sudden, the pump was noisy and erratic. I went outside to have a look see. Water was still coming through, and the pump seemed to be working, so I went on my merry way.

As I was putting on the finishing touches in the bathroom, I started to feel hot. And sweaty. And not in a good way. I went into the office to check the swamp cooler. Uh oh. No more cool air. Just warm outside air.

I called the plumbing company, and got my friend on the phone again. He said he'd send someone right over. And right over it was...someone was at my house within 15 minutes. He checked the swamp cooler, and for some unexplained reason, he took my garden hose and started "washing" the unit. Water came spraying into my office, and even though I've cleaned up, I still am finding watery dirt specks on the furniture.

A few minutes later, he told me it was fixed. Turns out the spigot that turns on the water to the pump had been turned off. (And no, I didn't do it!)

Tonight me and the cats are almost too cool, but believe me, we're not complaining. It's so much easier to get warm than it is cool. Of course, now that the temperature is more comfortable, the cats have forgotten the peace pipe ritual and are back to chasing each other around the house, and sparring face-to-face. Don't get me wrong; I love the cool. But I sure do miss the quiet!