The Haul

For the past few days, I've spent time with Momma and I've had a ball. Here is the photographic evidence:



This was an amazingly successful day at TJ Maxx and Target. Normally, I don't shop at TJ Maxx because I feel superior, but this day just might change my mind. From there, I got uber-preppy towels, Yankee Candles, and a basket set.

Next, we hit the Target, because we couldn't find curtains for my bedroom at the Maxx. Once there, we found the damn cutest thing:



I sent a copy to the boy, because he told me he could identify any monster. Bah! I've heard nothing back yet about what it is...

Momma and I looked over and over again for curtains. We started with a tribal print (yum!), then moved on to the energy-efficient section (who knew?), and finally reached the discount section. Despite my inner spoiledness, we decided on the cheaper curtains, and here's what they look like in my bedroom:



They're not black-and-white as the photo seems, but I caught the afternoon light.

The next day we went for Mexican (nom nom nom) and then to Barnes & Noble, where I got a present for my boy and more fun reading for me:



Can you guess which one is for him?

Oxytocin

Now that the trip's been postponed, I've been feeling a little down. My kilter's a bit off; I've been needy and clingy. I've needed the boy to reassure me more often than normal that he loves me.

(Aside: I get clingy and needy because I've had a lot of close friends drop out of my life. At this point, I'm kinda accustomed to it, as sad as that sounds. So I expect people to leave, and probably, folks, I create a self-fulfilling prophesy. But that's a story for another time.)

Being away from him is really hard. We're as close as two people can be who can't actually lay eyes on each other. I was getting so excited to be able to watch him and touch him and just feel his energy around me. Having that taken away shook me. So last night, after I told him that I had an interview today, I asked, "Honey, if I'm good, and get this job, and work hard and save my money, can I please come see you in September?" He said yes - in fact, he seemed a little taken aback. I think he forgets that it was his idea to postpone the trip.

My Facebook status last night was something to the effect of needing an oxytocin fix. Not Oxycontin, the drug, but oxytocin, the bonding hormone. Because I really do need it, folks, I need the feeling I get when I'm physically near him.

So we wait for September and keep our fingers crossed that I got this job!

Postponed

Hey folks, my vacation has been postponed and needless to say, I'm sad and upset. There's just no money right now. The boy and I are both strapped and trying to survive on crumbs. I could get the money together to go, but he really can't, and he's justifyibly proud. Also, one person paying for everything throws off the power dynamic, and it's even worse if it's the woman doing all the paying. For better or for worse, the boy and I can be pretty traditional about such things.

I can't help but worry what will happen to us now. To us as poor individuals, but also to the "us". It takes lesser things to break people apart, and from what I understand, money can just ruin everything. It's so hard to talk about and it's so close to the forefront of my mind...

Sorry for the ramble. I needed to get this off my chest but I need to get to my temp job so I don't have time to edit and polish this post.

More Random

Here's some more weirdness you may not have known about me:

1. I collect toiletries. I've got something like three kinds of antiperspirant, two kinds of hair gel, four bags of cotton balls....I've always been like this and I don't know why. To make up for it, I bought more shampoo, shower gels, and face washes today.

2. I listen to music almost obscenely loudly when I drive. There's a noise ordinance in this town, and I'm amazed that I've not yet been ticketed. I also seem to turn it louder after I've cleaned my ears, and have spent more than one day pretending I could understand what another person was saying.

3. I find it difficult to get rid of things. I've got every love letter I've ever received, I keep just about every CD, and it pains me every time my answering machine fills up and I have to delete voice messages.

4. Related to #4: One of my phones has just everyone on caller ID. The one in my bedroom has only calls from my boy. And wow, I can't believe I told you that.

5. I have a favorite parking space at my complex, and it really bothers me when someone else takes it. It especially bothers me when the lady with the pro-life car tag parks there.

6. I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out how to fill up my day. People, twenty-four hours is a lot of hours when you've really not got much to do. I wish I were more motivated; I'd clean this whole place from top to bottom or write a novel or something. But instead, I'm lazing about.

7. Even after over a year, it makes me heart skip a beat to see the boy's number on my caller ID.

Proof Of My Ineptitude

Considering that I'm been cramming my relationship down your collective throat, I thought I'd change the topic briefly. Tonight when I got home, I got online to look up some work I need to do, and well, let's be honest, play on Facebook.

There's this high-pitched chirp coming from the smoke detector in my office. I listened to it again and again, stared at it meanly, and then hollered at it for a while. Finally, I decided that I'm smarter than it, so I grabbed a chair from the kitchen set, climbed up, and tried to open the thing. I wasn't sure what I would do once it was open, but I figured that something would come to me.

I can't open the damn thing. I can't tell if the device twists, if the bendy part isn't working, or if I'm a moron. So I got back down and glared some more. Once again, dirty looks proved ineffective, so I got back on the chair and pushed the red button. Suddenly the chirp became a long tone, so I hit the button again and the detector squealed again. I hit it one last time, got off the chair, and ran away.

Now, the detector is chirping, and I'm getting ready to wait it out.

Smoke Detector: 1.
Me: 0.

It's The Way He Says It

It took me about three months to get the boy to tell me that he loves me, about another two months to get him to say it each time we got off the phone for our last conversation for the night, about three more months to say it in public, and only recently does he say it just about every time we end conversations. (For the record, we talk at least twice a day, and usually, four or five times.)

I don't think that's too strange; I tell Wade and she tells me me, "I love you" when we talk, and B. and I regularly exchange love. (Not like that, you perverts.)

Still, there's nothing better than when the boy and I are talking, and he, almost mindlessly, says to me, "I love you I love you I love you." It's almost like he's just breathing, it's such a part of him now, I'm such a part of him now, that it's unconscious, an essential fact. He'll say it when he's looking for a particular word or a good segue to our next topic. Used to be, he'd hum the Simpsons theme when mentally searching, now, it's, "I love you".

I am spoiled by this one.

Snippet

Here's a bit of my conversation this morning with the boy:

Him: I'm hungry.

Me: Me too. But I just got on the scale, so no food for me.

Him: (Sigh).

Me: No, it's good. I'm down two pounds.

Him: Do you want to know how I lost thirty pounds in ten minutes?

Me: Tapeworm?

Him: Chainsaw.

Sorry, ladies, this one's mine, all mine, and I'm keeping him.