105 minutes

There are only 105 minutes left in my workday. By the time I finish this post there will be less than that, but I started at 105 minutes.

The day is creeping by slowly, and the last hour or so has seemed to move even slower than the beginning of this torturous day. It’s not that I have big plans or anything for the next four days, it’s just the thought that I have a whole four days off work, two of which I’ll be getting paid for. Sweet.

I thought I could occupy my brain by thinking of things I’d rather be doing for the next 105 minutes. So, here’s my list of 105 things…just kidding. There won’t be that many, but I bet I could think of that many.

I’d rather be talking to my grandfather. He’s been gone eighteen years, and it’s amazing to me how often I still think of him, or how often his name passes my lips.

I’d rather be holding my children.

Since last Friday…

First, I’m not dead. Fortunately? Unfortunately? Whatever, I’m still alive.

So, let’s get all caught up.

Friday night (the 9th), my roommate and I had a little alcohol, and then a little disagreement, followed up by me packing up all my stuff and leaving in the middle of the night. I haven’t heard a word from her since I left, and after the way she talked to me, I really don’t think I will. I won’t be crying about it or losing any sleep.

I moved in with my best friend. She’s one of those people that is very driven and ambitious, keeps her home immaculate, and has polite and respectful children. It’s pretty much night and day from where I was living, and the difference has been good for me. My stress levels are down, my blood pressure is down, I haven’t had a single headache since I moved, and I’m overall just really happy.

Since I moved in I’ve met so many people. She’s got a huge family, and tons of friends…and everyone is so damn nice. Of course, every where we go, I kinda feel like the token white girl, but I get in where I fit in.

Last week I looked at an apartment.

Friday’s Feast Number 13

I haven’t done the Feast since October, so I thought I’d pick it back up, since I always enjoy it.

Appetizer
Which snack do you like to get when you go to the movies?
I like to get MilkDuds and popcorn. Eaten together, they taste like caramel corn. Plus you get the whole salty/sweet thing. Yum.

Soup
What year did you start using the internet?
1995, but I didn’t get my own computer until 1998.

Salad
What is your first name in Pig Latin? (Here’s how to speak it if you don’t already know!)
Ephaniestay

Main Course
Name something you are picky about.
Hmm, I’m pretty laid back about most things, so it’s hard to say. I guess I’m a little picky about the way towels are folded. They are to be folded in half, then half again, and then into thirds.

Dessert
Fill in the blanks: I ____ ____ yesterday and I ____ ____ today.
I was fretting about my truck yesterday and I think I might have overreacted now that I have a clearer head today. (Well, that and the second, third, and fourth opinion always helps.)

My bad luck and a random Disney reference.

I think I must be carrying around a cloud of bad luck.

 A “little problem” with my truck has turned out to be not so little. What could have cost me about $5.00 and a hard time from my co-workers is instead going to cost me at least $100.00 and a hard time from my co-workers. What was supposed to be a bad thermostat has turned out to be a cracked radiator. I swear I’m not going to lay down on the floor and kick and cry and moan “why me? why me?”…but I certainly see the appeal.

 I suppose it could be worse. I could have had the thermostat replaced, thought the truck was fixed, and then a few weeks from now be driving down the highway and have my engine seize up. It’s better to know what’s really wrong. I mean, it’s not like it’s going to cost as much as having the engine replaced…but still!

I’ve been fighting the urge to call my ex. Yeah, he’s a bastard, but I swear the man was born with a wrench in his hand. Anything mechanical, he can fix it. This wouldn’t be an issue for him at all. He’d give me a lecture about taking care of my shit, he’d fix it, it wouldn’t cost me anything but time, and then I could put it all behind me. But I swear, every time I reach for the phone to dial his number, this little voice tells me “No. Deal with this yourself.”

So, I’m going to. That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it though, so that’s why I’m venting here.

It’s funny, I always feel a little guilty when I write here about negative things. I worry that it gives the impression that I’m a whiner or complainer, or that I’m a generally unhappy person. I feel the need to justify what I say, and to try and end on a positive note. Honestly, I’m not an unhappy person. I’m pretty happy most of the time, in spite of all the rotten things that I complain about.

It just seems like lately, I’ve done nothing BUT complain. About my health, about the prodigal boyfriend, my friendships, my family, and now my vehicle. I guess the fact is that since I write here about these things, I don’t carry them around on my shoulders, and I feel lighter for leaving the load right here. So while I might seem to be taking lessons from Eeyore on how to deal with life, I’m really much more like Pooh, and on good days I’m Tigger all the way.

Protected: The sad truth

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

Tuesday ramblings

So the damned Monopoly game at McDonalds is over, and I didn’t win the million dollars, again. I did win two downloadable games, about $15 off at Toys ‘r’ Us, about $10 at Foot Locker, several small fries, a couple of medium fries, a small soft drink or coffee, and the big winner? A small McFlurry. I’ll probably lose the stupid little sticker before I have a chance to redeem it.

 I really needed the million dollars, too. I think my thermostat is going out in my truck. (Is that what it’s called? Or is it thermometer?…whatever….I’m pretty sure that thing is what’s wrong.) My truck is randomly overheating. Then yesterday my heater stopped working. It was cold as hell outside and THAT’S the day my heater stops working. It did eventually come back on, but by then I was almost home and it didn’t really matter anyway.

I wonder how much those things cost. I should take the proactive approach to it and call a mechanic and sound really sure of myself and tell them that my thermostat is going out and find out how much it costs. It probably wouldn’t have the same effect if I called and told them the thermometer was going out in my truck.

The thing is, I don’t often take the proactive approach to things in my life. I typically wait until shit falls apart and then REact. “Oh my life sucks so bad. Poor pitiful me.” I don’t necessarily just mean my vehicles, either. I’m talking about everything. Friendships, jobs, my computer, my health, relationships. I’m like a bystander in every aspect of my life. It’s almost as if I’m standing on the sidelines pointing out to everyone else how poorly I’m performing out there on the field.

I did NOT just use a football/sports analogy in this blog. God help us all. Moving right along.

Yesterday we were discussing at work how odd the weather has been. I think someone actually uttered the words “It doesn’t feellike November.” Stupid bastard. It’s his fault that we woke up to sub-arctic temperatures today. And because I’m so brilliant, I slept with my window cracked open a few inches. Yes, me, the girl that is still trying to get over bronchitis. Technically, I guess I’m over it. I finished my antibiotic and I’m not running any fever anymore. It’s just that I still have this awful, hacky cough. People at work have actually taken steps back away from my desk when I start one of my fits. It’s a good thing I’m not sensitive to that sort of thing.

I have a secret. It’s actually not about the prodigal boyfriend. It’s about something completely different, and I’m dying to write about it. So, I’m going to write about it later, probably this evening, and it will be a password-protected entry. If you’d like to read it, just drop a comment here and I’ll send the password to your email. It’s not a juicy “I got laid last night” kind of secret, so don’t get excited. It’s just something I can’t write about publicly at this time.

Anyway, it’s getting close to the end of my workday, and time for me to go home and count the hours until my paycheck hits the bank on direct deposit. I LOVE moneyday!