Okay, so last night's blog was a little dour because, admittedly, I was feeling really sorry for myself. I then had a long chat with a good friend in the wee hours of the morn and after much laughter and a few tears, the poor me phase has passed, for now. He reminded me of the funny aspects of my life at the moment, making me so grateful to be blessed with good friends, great family, and, Gold help me, a well functioning sense of humor. Here are some things I have not discussed about the past week.
Since returning from vacation, I have starred in my very own cartoon. When I arrived home on Tuesday evening, I saw that the entire contents of my bedroom sat in my kitchen and living room. None of it had been cleaned, and most of my books and clothing sat in large black plastic bags. Because I was waiting for my room to be bleached and shampooed, I had to sleep on the couch and leave my things where they lay for a couple of days. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the condition of my apartment, I vowed to spend the weekend revitalizing my apartment, making it even better than it had been before. The cleaners came Wednesday and I was cleared to move back into my room for Thursday. A surge of excitement shot through me, and I began to plot out the next few days.
On Wednesday, I needed to take two buses down to the airport to pick up the car my brother and I share from long-term parking. It is early and I am very sleepy so you can imagine my surprise and disappointment when I realize I left the parking ticket at home. The cashier called his manager. The manager said that I could leave the lot if she could see my license and registration. Well, this is no problem because I am licensed, insured and registered. I pull out the little yellow envelope in my glove compartment and nonchalantly hand it to the manager. She very politely asks why I have a MA license with a CO registration, and why the names are different. The registration turned out to be my parents' old registration, and my registration had, of course, disappeared. So, now I look like a thief, and she kindly tells me I need to go home to retrieve the ticket. Three buses later, I arrive back at my house, officially late for work to find my ticket tucked exactly where I left it and I leave again to catch the buses back to the airport. I drive to work in my car without registration or proof of insurance, praying I will not be pulled over. Perhaps this should have been a sign.
On Thursday, I woke up feeling refreshed and bit sheepish about the events from the day before. This was the day I was going to get it all together. I had big plans to have my bills on auto-debited, to reorganize and throw out a lot of my possessions and many other exciting organizational plans. Nonetheless, I had a positive feeling about the day as I hopped in my car to head to work. As I drove down the road that leads me to work (about 5 minutes away), the truck in front of me stopped to turn left. I stopped behind him. In my rearview, I saw a pickup truck come barreling around the corner with no evidence of slowing. I watched as he plowed into my rear end at 40MPH, shoving me into the truck in front of me. My car was squished and my neck whiplashed.
On Friday, I had a date (actually a second date with the same guy, which does not happen to me very often) so I was pretty excited. We had to change our plans given the whole whiplash thing so he brought me yummy food and we settled in to a night of movie watching. That night, I made little eye contact with my date. My neck was too stiff to alternate between watching the movie and looking at him. I could choose one or the other, but I could not do both. Whenever I laughed, I had to wrap my hands around my neck in order to hold my head still. Finally, after two movies and a tasty meal, we sat facing each other on my couch so I could finally make eye contact. By this point, I just kept my hands wrapped around my neck, like I was choking myself. Here I am, attempting to turn a second date into a third, and I have my hands wrapped around my neck. Hot!
A third date happened a couple of days later, but my confidence had taken a hit. By not being able to look at my date much on Friday, I now felt shy about looking at him too much. Having dated very little, I am clueless about initiating flirty touches and teasing gazes. I have read about it, wrote about and watched it happen, but when it is my turn to charm--forget it. On Sunday, I think I finally got a glimpse into the life of boys who must feel totally overwhelmed by the responsibility of making the first move. Augh! I am inept at enacting all the creative ideas I have about the art of flirtation and seduction. Perhaps men find awkwardness and pathological nervous chatter attractive. I will just have to wait and find out.