I’m not able to go into details yet, but the past 36 hours have been spent going back and forth between Urgent Care, the emergency room, the Walgreens pharmacy and first aid aisles, and the grocery store to locate the most nutritious-and-easily-digestible things that don’t taste like garbage. It’s been exhausting, but I am nothing if not consistently motivated by a nauseating cocktail of stress, fear, and money leaving my checking account at an alarming rate. I think I’ve performed like a champ over the past day and a half, to be honest. Not like I deserve a medal, but if anyone has a free beer they’d like to send my way, I’d completely understand your motivation.
Except Adrian. He’s not allowed to send me a free beer because it’s his birthday. Happy birthday, Adrian! I’d also say the same thing about Courtney since it’s her birthday too, but she can’t possibly send me a free beer because a) she lives in Seattle and b) she is currently camping in a yurt (that dirty hippie). So. Whatever.
I should mention that Graham turned 30 on Thursday. I had a brief moment of being freaked at the thought that I am dating a 30-year-old man, but then I realized that I’ve dated dudes over 30 before so I guess it’s not a big deal. And, um, I’m 29, so 30 isn’t too far off for me. The bigger freakout came when I started house hunting earlier today. Relax, people who know me well enough to understand my ordeal with getting a mortgage, it’s just a rental. But it’s still a house, and starting tomorrow I have appointments to view the first two of several. When I called each of the listers, I explained that my boyfriend and I will be moving in together when my lease is up in October. I know that most people assume we already live together, but I’ve chosen to continue living alone during all four and a half years of our relationship, and actually saying that Graham and I will be signing this lease sort of trips me out.
But it’s not like I don’t know what it’s like to live with him. He’s been sacked out on the couch for awhile now, waking just long enough to change channels before passing out again. So far, I’ve overheard Scrubs, The Karate Kid, America’s Next Top Model, somebody’s standup, and a Travel Channel show on extreme towns. Did you know that there’s a town in Iowa where everyone does transcendental meditation? It sounds peaceful and all, but if I’m going to Iowa, I think I’d rather visit the Field of Dreams.
Speaking of Midwestern travel, Stephanie just texted me a picture message of a framed asterisk. Well, most people would assume that it’s an asterisk. But I know that Stephanie’s boyfriend is from Indiana, and I’ve seen that asterisk before.
Me: Is that the Vonnegut cat butthole????
Next picture message: a pretty electric typewriter.
Me: Quit fucking around with your camera and STEAL IT.
Stephanie: Purple or pink/red?
Me: Purple. DO IT.
Some people want money, jewelry, and priceless art. Those things are fine, I guess, and I wouldn’t refuse them if you were handing them out. But for me, my Precious would be one of Kurt Vonnegut’s typewriters. It would be perfect in my new house.
Hang in there and good luck on the house move!
Whatever the fuck is going on, I hope you two are okay, soon.