Whew.  I’ve been busy lately.  I should add, that this busy-ness was not necessarily quite extensive enough to preclude me from firing off a post or two.  But mostly I haven’t felt much like writing because the busies lead to the tireds.  So.  Whew.

Some of this won’t be about my job, but here we go:

My sister got married.  That was a lot of work, because said wedding including a sit-down dinner for two hundred.  I baked the bread.

I also went on a crazy crash diet out of general neurosis.   I forgot a couple of things when I launched this attach against sensible eating: 1) I soooo don’t believe in crazy crash diets and 2) when I lose weight, my boobs disappear.  There are a lot of awesome pictures of me holding up my strapless dress with strength of will alone.  Okay, strength of will and carefully positioned elbows.   Hitching up one’s dress constantly is the very opposite of stylish.

The whole lay speaker thing is one I should follow up on.  I told the guy no.  My official excuse is that I really need to find myself a shitty part time seasonal retail job.  And I do.  I’ve filled out a couple online applications today.  It’s rather more complicated than that, though.

The pastor at the church where I work has heard the rumor’s that I’m considering the ministry.  Considering is a mighty strong word.  He keeps telling me how much work it is.  I find this hilarious.

My aunt, whom I’m very fond of, is in town and has been since the wedding last weekend.  I really like her.  Unfortunately she talks incessantly.  If you are actively having a conversation, she’s funny and interesting.  If you are not, she will ask you a steady stream of narrative-style questions: I see you’re drinking water.  Are you thirsty?  Do you like your water best with ice or without?  Did the ice melt or did you just not put any in there?  Would you prefer a coke? I wouldn’t mind to get you a coke.  Shall I go get you a coke?  Do you like ice in your coke?  Why don’t you want a coke?  Would you like some grapes?  Don’t you like grapes?

Saturday I took her to a botanical garden and a flea market and then out for dinner to give my mom a bit of a break from this cheerful, well-intentioned onslaught.  Aunty’s my dad’s sister, but, because my mom’s retired, she’s been spending most of the time with her.  After what was basically a seven hour conversation with helpful tips for better driving interspersed, I came home, took a bath and a sleeping pill, and went to bed before eleven.  That is the very definition of how to exhaust an introvert.

While she and my mom are at a farmer’s market this afternoon, I’m going to nap on the couch.  Just try and stop me.

Ugh.  I always feel mildly bad about complaining, because she is such a great aunt.  But the talking… it’s just so…. much to bear.  Ugh!

Boys have lately become a complicating factor in my life.  Old Guy from the Pixies Show has lately become quite smitten with me.  It’s the kind of smitten a girl should know better than to take personally, and I do.  He’s smitten with smittenness more than with me, and I keep trying to mention thing that would turn off any sensible boy.  I live with my parents!  The big toenail on my right foot is just pieces of toenail reassembled and held on with superglue!  I slap automatically people who try to touch my ears!   No dice.

I do enjoy talking to him.  He’s smart and funny and kind of reminds me of someone I had a crush on in college.   But he’s pretentious as fuck and a practitioner of unspeakable geekeries.   Not the biting the heads off of chickens sort; the role playing games sort.   I might’ve preferred the former.

OGfPS is coming into town at the end of the month for a work thing that I suspect could’ve been handled over the phone.  He wants to see me.   I told him that I wouldn’t sleep with him, that I’m not at all seeking a relationship with him.  Even this has not dissuaded him from driving ten hours.   Since it’s ostensibly a work trip, I can’t really tell him to stay home.  I foresee an awkward conversation in my future.  And possibly a blender.

Don’t ask.

I  made a sort of blatant inquiry of a boy I do like recently.  I regret that a little, while I’m hanging out waiting for his email response.   I feel like I’m going to get shot down.  Maybe because he knows my toenail is gross from too much running.  Maybe because I have weird hair and live in the midwest.  Who can say.

You know what I really regret?  The way gift giving and celebration generally are structured.  Think of it.  Who really needs presents?  If you’re getting married, it’s the happiest day of your life.  Alledgedly.  What do you really need with fancy food or loads of presents?  You’re happy.  On the other hand, I think that a girl who’s about to get a “I like you, but…” email could do with a motherfucking toaster oven.  Or a big, beautiful bottle of champagne.   And cake.  Definitely cake.

Maybe I do hope he brings me that blender after all.

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