They're gone.
I didn't go into it over the past couple of weeks, since I didn't want to jinx myself; but everything went as planned and on Wednesday, Tim and Squeaky moved out.
And for some reason, I've been a big ol' ball of depressed ever since.
Now, if that's not the most ridiculous damn thing I've ever heard of, I don't know what is--but it's true. I can't even articulate what's making me so sad--am I jealous? am I just lonely? And yes, I DO know how ridiculous it is to be anything less than ecstatic about their departure, after eight MONTHS of having them living rent-free, having all their wants provided for, making little or no attempt to find useful employment. I should be happy just to have my space back!
And not only am I sad, which I don't understand, but I'm also pissed at Tim, which I understand perfectly. Here's a hint to everyone: If you ever have to thank someone for doing something extremely inconveniencing on your behalf, it's always best to NOT make it into a litany of every single solitary thing which annoyed you over that time period. (Seriously, that's what he did. It started out as "thanks" and ended up in the most aggravating conversation I'd had in years--at one point, I realized that in one case, he was annoyed because I HADN'T done something that would have annoyed him!! Now, I can handle a degree of illogic, but I mean, damn.) He apologized later, via e-mail, but I'm still too busy being flabbergasted to forgive him completely.
So Tim and Squeaky are in their new apartment up near the northernmost edge of the city, in a building where I used to live with Tim--I took Squeaky to my old landlord when all her other possibilities went to hell. He's a nice guy--kinda gruff, but good-hearted, and has a soft spot for people with bad credit or other liabilities. So now Squeaky's got an apartment in her name alone, and Tim just stays there--it's a tiny little place, but cute, and she's really excited about it. Maybe that's what makes me sad--that I have nothing at all to be excited about anymore. Since I've been 25, with a couple of exceptions, everything has been one disappointment after another, so much so that I've pretty much given up trying. Nothing's worth summoning emotion about, if it will all end in ruin. I wish I still believed in happiness.
And NO, she has NOT yet had the baby. The kid is hanging on for dear life; Squeaky's been in various configurations of early to mid-labor for about three weeks now, and last I heard, if she doesn't go into labor on her own by then, they're going to induce labor over the weekend.
And so THAT'S the news, my readers, and if anyone needs me I'm in my room, under my bed, playing Bingo on my netbook.
