I keep going rounds with this post. What to tell, what not to tell, and of the things I’d mention, how brief or expanded that thing should be. And then I decided I was feeling too sick and tired and going to bed, until a really loud cicada did its thing right outside my door and threw all short-term sleeping plans out the door.
So. Here. Now. Listening to a meditation CD with no intentions of actually meditating, sitting here with a sour stomach, dreading work the next day and realizing that this crappy feeling is why people do drugs. I think.
Two weeks without Internet (that’s to a power-spike inducing storm) means a lot has happened. For one, Jim’s moved in all his stuff. We’re “official.” We have most furniture we need except for a sofa, and I think we’re about to score one of those. We’re both excited about that.
What else? Oh. A girl from Jim’s past (read: one-night stand) decided to apply at his workplace and, surprisingly, got the job there. Neither Jim nor I are pleased; Jim’s made his boss promise that he would never get stuck working with her. (No, Jim doesn’t dislike all girls in his past, just like I don’t hate all the guys in mine, but this one, if I recall right, was the one he described as “stupid and just really mean,” so I’m thinking she’s probably not good co-worker material either.) At any rate, Jim’s looking for a new job and we’re both talking more seriously about relocating. The problem? The economy! Thanks, Economy, you suck and are making our lives way harder.
What else has happened? Oh, yeah. Yours truly had a birthday. It was honestly the best birthday I remember having. For one, I actually got a cake. Last year was actually the first time I got a cake from someone else since I was a teenager, and that was from my sister. My ex-husband never bothered; I always made or bought my own. I didn’t even realize how many people would be appalled by that later on when I was single. I was used to it.
But I digress. This birthday…well, orginally, Jim was supposed to have the entire day off, as he asked for it off. As it turns out, though, Jim’s long time friend’s girlfriend had just broken up with him (oh, that was the other big drama of the last two weeks, really nasty stuff, but that’s not my story to tell–he’s better off, though, if you ask me) and asked Jim to take half of the shift while the guy’s roommate covered the other half. So Jim worked in the morning, picked up a cake, then walked into our place with lit candles and singing happy birthday. Later that day, he took me to the state fair (I had never been to one before) and took me on the ferris wheel because he knew I had been itching to go on one for the last few years. We kissed at the top, so that was romantic.
That’s another new thing–I’ve never been with a romantic guy before. I used to not like the idea, but I gotta say, it does have its moments.
Jim won me a cheap, entirely overpriced bear which we turned over to a little girl who had been eyeing it. (Really, what does a 33 year old woman need with a stuffed panda anyway?) We also rode some ride called the Pirate Ship or something and he had roasted corn. He gave me some books for my birthday and took me out to dinner. It was great. But the best present came late.
A few days before my birthday, Jim had told me that he had ordered an Amy Tan book at Barnes ‘n’ Noble. Last week, we finally went to pick it up. I knew something was up when Jim and I went to the cashier, then he handed me a five and asked if I’d leave and get him a soda. I just figured he didn’t want me to know the price or something. Some people are weird about those things. But I went off, came back, handed him his soda, and we went back to the car.
“I have bad news,” Jim said. “They gave me the wrong book.” He handed me the bag. He was surprisingly calm about the whole thing.
“Okay,” I said. I opened the bag and pulled out the book to see what I got instead. And then I flipped out because Jim, the sneaky man, had never ordered an Amy Tan book, nor did he intend to. Instead, he had ordered Witches of Karres, one of my favorite books left behind with my ex-husband–and one, from my understanding, that isn’t exactly easy to find. Or last I had heard, anyway. So I was excited.
“I had to do a lot of work for that book,” he told me later. He told me the story: He knows a woman who works at Barnes ‘n’ Noble and called in a favor from her. The challenge? He couldn’t remember the title of the book except that the first couple words where “witches of” and he had no idea who the author was. He and the woman went through every book they could find that started with “witches of”–something she claimed she wouldn’t normally do for customers but would for him because they “went way back.”
For once, the fact that Jim knows everyone around here came in useful.
That gift, by the way, got the biggest reaction out of me than any other gift. My parents would be jealous, as they’d tried to get big reactions out of me all while I was growing up. I’m not normally a big “reactor.” You could give me a million dollars, and I’d say simply, “thanks,” put it aside, and change the subject.
Speaking of changing subjects, the bugs have shut up. I know I’m ending this abruptly, but meh. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.
Oh, but an important note: After nearly 3 years after splitting up with my ex, I finally saw the first check from him towards the $6,200 he owes me. I think when the judge told my ex he didn’t want to see him in there again, that paying back me wasn’t an option but an order, my ex realized it was time to throw in the towel. Now, why he decided to swing by my apartment in person to deliver it is beyond me–my co-workers think he wants to “get some” (ew)–but you know what? As long as I get my money back, even in small chunks, I don’t care. I’m just glad to have one less thing to worry about. God knows I have enough.
