For the next three days, Aaron will be camping in Mendocino with his dog, his mum, and his mum's friend.
A part of me screams, "FREEDOM!" while another part knows I will cower underneath the covers when the sun goes down, images of zombies dancing through my head. Maybe I should put some Disney movies on my Netflix.
But I am going to treat myself well these next few days. I'll work out every day after work without considering Aaron's feeling that I'm avoiding him or worrying that the dog is barking too much. I'll get my nails done. I'll go see the cheesey, romantic movies that Aaron refuses to see with me, and I'll take myself and buy myself popcorn and Hershey kisses and I'll thank myself for treating myself so well.
I'll probably just hole up in my apartment, eating potato chips and watching The Simple Life reruns, but a girl can dream. Can't she?
I'll spread myself out on the bed, rolling around as much as I'd like. I'll listen to all of my records and I'll lay down depressed in the empty bathtub if I want to, because no one can say I shouldn't.
We spent Saturday, his designated birthday day, eating breakfast at Denny's, buying an X-Box, a game, a new sweater, and a dress for me, frantically cleaning up the apartment for Aaron's mom (I inhaled so much Ajax, I think I'm mutating into an octopus), greeting Aaron's mom and eating dinner at the Metro, walking around the neighborhood to find a shot of Frenet and a Lemondrop for me, walking back to the apartment to smoke, twirling around on the roof of our building, and crashing like I haven't crashed for days.
Sunday found us buying a couch from the antique store down the street, driving around the Presidio and on the Great Highway, eating dinner at Aaron's restaurant with Aaron's mum's penpal from Florida, laughing behind the penpal's back at his weirdness, discussing behind the penpal's back how CREEPY this is, talking to strange people outside the restaurant, getting as drunk as I used to get back in the day (see: 2002), disliking the fuzzy, disconnected feeling that comes with getting that drunk, catching a ride home, and crashing like I hadn't crashed since the night before.
This was the longest weekend ever.
Now I'm buying plane tickets and hotel and car reservations for my boss. It's not very interesting, because I have to run every detail by him -- would he rather get in an hour and a half early or save $150? Do you mind connecting in Denver? Which movie would you rather see on the flight? -- and he's on the phone every minute of the day so I have to run in there and catch him while he's dialing.
I wish I were so important.
one year ago today: nothin.
two years ago today: "even if i can't get a job, even if i can't get laid, even if i can't make friends ... at least i have cool hair."
three years ago today: "I can see me now, years in the future: 'So, why don't you stay the night tonight? I'll make you breakfast in the morning...I make great Eggs Benedict.'"