Although I must admit, the comments full of worry are kinda comforting.
So no, I have not fallen off the face of the earth, and no, I have not been neglecting you guys for CR, either--if I'm neglecting my blog and its readers for anything, it's for work, sleep, housecleaning, and Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook. CR was only here for about ten days, this last time, and he's been gone for almost a week now. Right now, in fact, he's in the Bumblepoot Community Hospital and Turkey-Plucking Emporium, in the fine town of Bumblepoot, IN. They wanted to admit him for some tests--basically because his blood pressure and blood sugar were completely outrageous every time he'd go to the doctor's office; through text messages, he's told me that the results of the tests so far have been: his blood pressure and blood sugar were completely outrageous. I suspect there's more to it--they don't keep you for a full seven days just to repeat themselves--but he said it's all in the letters he's written from the hospital. (You may be thinking, "Aww, how cute! He wrote to her,"--well, this was under threat of death, and just so he had no excuses, I stamped a handful of envelopes and put my own address on them, and sent them off with him when he left on the Greyhound last Monday. Still haven't gotten a letter, but I'm thinking maybe by Tuesday one should appear.)
Everything in the CR department is wonderful, other than his health issues; we've talked through pretty much the whole history of our relationship, and he has clearly changed a LOT. And really? Even if only half of what he claims to have learned about himself is valid, that's still a vast improvement. Some of my friends have warned me to be careful about trusting him, or having any kind of emotional attachment to him. I see their point, but here's my side of the story: Even if the worst case scenario came to pass--if he ended up cheating on me again, or leaving me for whatever reason--I'd have nothing to be all tragic about. My heart would not be broken. Don't get me wrong--I love him dearly--but I've already lived without him for seven years. I'd be hurt if he left, of course, but after a few days I'd just dust myself off and find something else to do. I'm a lot older now than I was in 2002, and even in my worst depressions, I still know how to keep going. If he left me, sure I would miss him--but it wouldn't completely destroy me. I've already been down that road with him, so there's not much left about it to scare me.
Other than all that, my life has been deadly boring. Work is still an enormous stress, but I can leave it at the door when 5 PM rolls around. The kitties are fine--or as fine as demented-but-cute quadrupeds can manage to be. I really need to catch a picture of Marigold when she goes into her Foofy Diva mode--big plume of a tail in the air, chin up, stalking through the apartment as though HER name was on the lease. Snickers has developed an odd little habit--he follows me into the bathroom, then jumps on my lap while I'm...occupied, shall we say. At all other times, he steadfastly refuses to be a lap-cat...just when I'm having a sit-down does his cuddly side come in. And if he can't get to my lap, he jumps on the sink and puts his front paws on the top of my head, with his back paws on the sink. I don't know WHERE this cat came by his personality, but he is just weird and fun and amazing. And BadCat--who, in case I never mentioned it, was originally half CR's cat as well--has taken quite a liking to his prodigal half-owner, and will flop on his lap whenever the opportunity presents.
Let's see, what more is there to tell--oh, this one's good. I learned a very important lesson at about 2 AM last night, namely this: No matter what you have been dreaming about, or how much sense it makes at the instant you wake up, a can of Pepsi does not now, nor ever will, contain eyedrops. (I woke up and my contacts were stuck to my eyes from sleeping, as usual. I had been dreaming, I think, about putting drops in my eyes, and furthermore that's what I do the moment I wake up anyway, but I was a little groggy still--and so I grabbed the nearest round object, tipped my head back, and went to put a drop of saline in my eye. Well, Pepsi cans do NOT have dropper tips, and so the two drops I thought I was going to get in the corner of my left eye turned out to be about a quarter of a can of Pepsi in my eye, over my face, and down my shirt. You would imagine that pouring Pepsi into your eye would hurt insanely, and you would not be far wrong--for about two seconds. After that, it just felt cold and stupid, and other than a slight increase in the pile of laundry to do tomorrow, there was no permanent harm done--although I've definitely exceeded my quota of STOOPID for the month of May.
So yeah--I'm all well and good. I'm going to try to be more prolific in my writing here--besides which, I'm sure there will be more stories soon--but in the meantime, thanks for caring, for checking in, for reading my goofiness over and over. There's plenty more where that came from....I hope.
