A wise person would tell you that no matter how good a deal something is, you shouldn't buy it if you cannot afford to spend the money. Today was a day of frugality that would make Mr. Scrooge himself blush! Or some other famous cheapskake; I shorted the circuit for our internet connection downstairs and in the time that I ate my dinner and my housemate set us up with another connection I have somewhat lost my gusto for writing this. But I was so excited-- deals, get 'em while they're hot! So I'm going to try to continue.That and even though it's not yet 9 pm I want to go to sleep, but I have to wait for my clothes to dry in our somewhat busted dryer.
The first steal of the day was an unexpected one. I was baking cookies and I cracked open an egg, and lo and behold, there were two yolks for the price of one! "It's a twin, like me!" I proclaimed, before I realized that the yolk is actually the food and not the chicken-- so, really I should have thought, "This unborn chicken loved to eat, just like me!"
I love going to the grocery store for many reasons. It's a type of shopping that doesn't depress me or fill me with the rabid need to consume. I think I'm doing just fine, I have all I need, and all of a sudden I wander upon some leggings at Target and I start thinking about how the Man is always keeping me down, and when will I ever have money? and why, oh why do we live in a society where our economic structure is one of feeding parasites, bleeding our Mother dry... *ahem*
But everyone's gotta eat, right? And there's nothing like buying greens and beans to make me feel like I'm doing something good for myself, aaaaaaalright. I love co-ops, although now I'm torn about membership, but blah blah blah, that's another story for, never because it's super boring and you don't want to hear it anyway. So.
I just got a phone call. It might be time for me to go. It's disrupting my flow. I don't think I'm done.
I come from an established line of thrifty ladies. My mama and my nana before her have long emphasized the merits of good deal. My (twin) sister (like the egg!) has always understood value of a dollar. Not I. I would spend my allowance straight away on Quints (dolls), or other toys that I could nurture, my stand-in for real friends, which I had very few actual of until college. Those were boon years for me. What was I talking about, deals? Oh god, I really have lost all interest in this topic. So, anywho, I went to a conventional grocery store (Safeway) which is not my favorite place. I do appreciate their playing of Christmas music. This is only because I love Christmas music and rarely listen to the radio, not because I'm one of those freaks who think there is some corporate conspiracy to make everyone forget about the miracle birth of the baby Jesus (and assume that belief is something that should be casually foisted upon everyone, everywhere. Just sayin).
So, I was shopping at Safeway and I bought some mousse that I don't think has butane in it, but really that's anyone's guess. Scary. I only went to Safeway because I wanted generic cough medicine. I'm a wimp. I take the hard stuff. I wish I were more natural. I try. If I ever give birth I might take the drugs. Who knows?
I got a toothbrush, on sale (really? $3 for a toothbrush? That's highway robbery!), I bought some $4 wine on sale for $2. Guess how delicious that was? I'll give you a hint: Charles Shaw would have wept.
When I got home my housemates had taken a trip to Costco and came in just after me. Oh, weren't they delighted with the cheese, and the... the beer. That's what I remember them talking about. And someone mentioned that there was whiskey at Costco and I thought, "why didn't I go to Costco?"
Why not? Because I was being a humble cookie troll, delivering cookies that I baked this afternoon for someone I love. And that is the end of my stream of consciousness. Thank you for reading, if you kept reading once it became clear that I had very little to actually say about white hot deals. xoxoxo
Monday, November 29, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
a thousand-million
"By thirty you'll be about perfect." This was the prophecy of my next door neighbor as I was growing up. He was a soccer coach to my sister and the father in one of the best families I think has ever existed. I suspected he was a secret CIA agent. He spoke 13 languages and lived in the suburbs teaching ESL? I didn't think so. Not because it was a waste of talent (it's not), but because I have a suspicious mind. That family seemed too perfect: hilarious genius kids, the mom that hosted Bible study, the dad that was very family oriented... anywho, I love them, and I now doubt that he was a secret agent. But he could have been if he had different priorities... they were/are amazing people.
In my twenties I think of that incredibly off-the-cuff remark he once made. He probably doesn't even remember it, yet it's one of those things that I've internalized as Truth with little inspection, like how I sometimes believe that my soul mate's name starts with a certain letter, like when you're a kid and you twist an apple stem and begin the alphabet "a, b,c, etc" and whatever letter you stop on when the stem rips off will be your true love. So, somehow this is a truth I've come to believe in, or at least casts doubt to my adult reality: I will fall in love with ---- (wasn't that a movie starring Robert Downey Jr and Marisa Tomei?) and I will reach my apex at thirty.
All signs tell me that this will not be true. I am a late bloomer, and while I think that I have shown improvement in recent years the prospect of perfection by thirty is bleak. I probably was latching onto any amount of encouragement that I'd turn out alright, self-loathing teenager that I was. Alls I knows is, I plan to stay aboard the diet train,yet I've never taken to the gym, and apparently I've stopped reading books (I'm not sure why this happened, I always loved to read before college), but I have a greater appreciation for my friends and family all of the time. It's a mixed bag I'd say. We will see. I know that the love of my life is probably not predictably determined by the sturdiness of an apple stem, but it continues to be a thought that pops into my head whenever I am confronted with the terrifying unlimited possibilities of what the unknown future might contain. Goodnight!
In my twenties I think of that incredibly off-the-cuff remark he once made. He probably doesn't even remember it, yet it's one of those things that I've internalized as Truth with little inspection, like how I sometimes believe that my soul mate's name starts with a certain letter, like when you're a kid and you twist an apple stem and begin the alphabet "a, b,c, etc" and whatever letter you stop on when the stem rips off will be your true love. So, somehow this is a truth I've come to believe in, or at least casts doubt to my adult reality: I will fall in love with ---- (wasn't that a movie starring Robert Downey Jr and Marisa Tomei?) and I will reach my apex at thirty.
All signs tell me that this will not be true. I am a late bloomer, and while I think that I have shown improvement in recent years the prospect of perfection by thirty is bleak. I probably was latching onto any amount of encouragement that I'd turn out alright, self-loathing teenager that I was. Alls I knows is, I plan to stay aboard the diet train,yet I've never taken to the gym, and apparently I've stopped reading books (I'm not sure why this happened, I always loved to read before college), but I have a greater appreciation for my friends and family all of the time. It's a mixed bag I'd say. We will see. I know that the love of my life is probably not predictably determined by the sturdiness of an apple stem, but it continues to be a thought that pops into my head whenever I am confronted with the terrifying unlimited possibilities of what the unknown future might contain. Goodnight!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Bon Jovi, IS it my life?
I have just cleaned the bathroom. As I emerged from the bleach cave (shower), worried about blinding myself from stray droplets of Clorox I proclaimed "IT IS GOOD." I don't mind cleaning the bathroom. It's a'ight, not the best chore, not the worst chore. What is the best chore? Doing the dishes. The worst chore? Cleaning my room. Cleaning the bathroom gets an average grade, or maybe a B-.
I had an awful day yesterday. Today was a better day than yesterday was, and this morning I ate shit on my bike outside of my office building. I had to go home and change my clothes that were all messed up by sliding on the wet pavement. I had a headache all day because I hit my head on the ground (I know, I'm lucky it was just a headache. I need to find my helmet and start wearing it... this is my third close call on my bike). A jar of hot coffee broke in my purse and I cut my thumb a little as I fished out the shards of glass. My phone went kaput as a result of being drenched in coffee... luckily I have a spare. I was a little bit scared and a little bit horrified by it all.
Nothing particularly good happened today. I went back to work and felt semi-competent, which is great considering I'm new and I have major anxiety about everything in my life, this part included. I rode along while my housemate and her boyfriend were dropped off at the airport. I love the airport. This is probably because I'm not well traveled, but any sort of transportation; plane, train, greyhound (*shudder* I'll take the dirty dog if it means I'm in motion) is so wonderful.
However, I was there to keep the driver company, not off to any exciting adventure. Today was, eh. I ate two and a half heads of lettuce. I sat on my bed and drooled a while. You know, stuff. It's so weird. I can't understand it.
I'm glad that today was boring and felt pretty okay. I credit this to being well rested. It's going to be a cold one tonight. I'm bundling into my saucy blue bathrobe and calling it a day. November 23, 2010, I plan to never live it again. Thanks for the non-memories.
I had an awful day yesterday. Today was a better day than yesterday was, and this morning I ate shit on my bike outside of my office building. I had to go home and change my clothes that were all messed up by sliding on the wet pavement. I had a headache all day because I hit my head on the ground (I know, I'm lucky it was just a headache. I need to find my helmet and start wearing it... this is my third close call on my bike). A jar of hot coffee broke in my purse and I cut my thumb a little as I fished out the shards of glass. My phone went kaput as a result of being drenched in coffee... luckily I have a spare. I was a little bit scared and a little bit horrified by it all.
Nothing particularly good happened today. I went back to work and felt semi-competent, which is great considering I'm new and I have major anxiety about everything in my life, this part included. I rode along while my housemate and her boyfriend were dropped off at the airport. I love the airport. This is probably because I'm not well traveled, but any sort of transportation; plane, train, greyhound (*shudder* I'll take the dirty dog if it means I'm in motion) is so wonderful.
However, I was there to keep the driver company, not off to any exciting adventure. Today was, eh. I ate two and a half heads of lettuce. I sat on my bed and drooled a while. You know, stuff. It's so weird. I can't understand it.
I'm glad that today was boring and felt pretty okay. I credit this to being well rested. It's going to be a cold one tonight. I'm bundling into my saucy blue bathrobe and calling it a day. November 23, 2010, I plan to never live it again. Thanks for the non-memories.
Monday, November 22, 2010
That creepy feeling
Tonight I am bothered by that creepy feeling that I sometimes get. You know the one, where you end up sleeping with the lights on because you're sure that the light will protect you from all of the scary things in the dark? No? I was afraid of the dark for many years... actually I am probably still afraid of the dark, I just am able to fall asleep without a night-light now. I was a bed wetter too, but we don't need to discuss that, although I do have a nifty vocab word for you: enuresis. Neat! Another you might enjoy is dendrophilia (nothing related to my own interests there, I assure you).
Anywho, I hate that creepy feeling. It is a reminder that I don't need that there are bad people in this world who do not nice things to innocent people. For the same reason I hate scary movies. I don't need my imagination to be running wild at midnight, thank you. I used to frequent the website "crime library" and read about serial killers- what was I thinking!-- morbid curiosity perhaps, and a terrible idea. I regularly have bad dreams, which is not a direct result, but I'm just saying that my brain comes up with the scaries on its own... which is one of the reasons that I never want to live in a big house because big houses are so creepy at night. It's true.
When I was younger I was afraid of sharks in the bathtub after I saw the movie Jaws (I was not the smartest kid) and was sure that the shadows outside of my window were vampires. My babysitter once told me a ghost story and I was scared for weeks. My poor sister, we shared a room and besides being a slob I wanted to sleep with the light on every night. So my fear has deep roots, you see.
I'm a weenie. That's my point. Point made. I don't want to be jumpy at every noise. I am going to bed and hope to dream about food or boys or traveling and not the apocalypse, rejection, or home invasions.
From Marge Simpson to you (as told by Nick to me):
Anywho, I hate that creepy feeling. It is a reminder that I don't need that there are bad people in this world who do not nice things to innocent people. For the same reason I hate scary movies. I don't need my imagination to be running wild at midnight, thank you. I used to frequent the website "crime library" and read about serial killers- what was I thinking!-- morbid curiosity perhaps, and a terrible idea. I regularly have bad dreams, which is not a direct result, but I'm just saying that my brain comes up with the scaries on its own... which is one of the reasons that I never want to live in a big house because big houses are so creepy at night. It's true.
When I was younger I was afraid of sharks in the bathtub after I saw the movie Jaws (I was not the smartest kid) and was sure that the shadows outside of my window were vampires. My babysitter once told me a ghost story and I was scared for weeks. My poor sister, we shared a room and besides being a slob I wanted to sleep with the light on every night. So my fear has deep roots, you see.
I'm a weenie. That's my point. Point made. I don't want to be jumpy at every noise. I am going to bed and hope to dream about food or boys or traveling and not the apocalypse, rejection, or home invasions.
From Marge Simpson to you (as told by Nick to me):
All aboard the sleepy train
To visit Mother Goose.
Barty's stop is Snoozyland
To rest his sweet caboose.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
My friend Morgan:
If you are my friend, I have to sing your praises. This is not only because you listen to and share with me, or like me in general (although, thank you) it's easy because my friends are so wonderful, and smart and funny and cool... and I don't mean to treat friendship like it's a commodity that somehow makes me more wonderful or smart or funny or cool... okay, sometimes I do feel more cool because my friends are so cool. It's silly. But that is my failing and in no way detracts from anyone else's awesomeness. MY BRAIN!
Ugh, I don't actually want to write anything myself. I wanted to share something that my friend Morgan wrote that I like very much. I had the good fortune of meeting Morgan right before he moved to Georgia (*hint* to criminals who want to steal my identity or otherwise harm me, I don't live there. Sorry Morgan, now they know! Fact: there is a Springfield in every state in the Union. But, of course, you already knew that). Morgan is awesome. I need to go to bed so that I will be a productive little worker bee *adooorable* tomorrow and will leave you with this, rather than blah blah blah-ing and bad bad writing.
I think this began with me bragging that I had stopped crying in public, or at least at work. This may not translate, but this was his response and it made me very happy:
by Morgan
Impossible pursuits:
-Stop falling asleep (at night)
-Stop sneezing (in spring)
-Stop touching other people's shirts (while hugging them)
-Stop eating soup (out of bowls)
-Stop crying in front of strangers (at work)
Ugh, I don't actually want to write anything myself. I wanted to share something that my friend Morgan wrote that I like very much. I had the good fortune of meeting Morgan right before he moved to Georgia (*hint* to criminals who want to steal my identity or otherwise harm me, I don't live there. Sorry Morgan, now they know! Fact: there is a Springfield in every state in the Union. But, of course, you already knew that). Morgan is awesome. I need to go to bed so that I will be a productive little worker bee *adooorable* tomorrow and will leave you with this, rather than blah blah blah-ing and bad bad writing.
I think this began with me bragging that I had stopped crying in public, or at least at work. This may not translate, but this was his response and it made me very happy:
by Morgan
Impossible pursuits:
-Stop falling asleep (at night)
-Stop sneezing (in spring)
-Stop touching other people's shirts (while hugging them)
-Stop eating soup (out of bowls)
-Stop crying in front of strangers (at work)
Monday, November 15, 2010
My gold tooth!
Today was soooooo good. I went to the dentist and it was awesome.
I had cavities. Let us be open and honest to begin with. I have been avoiding going to the dentist for some time now. Although I have consistently had health insurance for most of my twenties (I know, I'm super lucky) I put it off because I was so afraid that even with health insurance I wouldn't be able to afford to fix my broken, disgusting mouth (who wants a kiss?). So, jerk that I am, I had not been to the dentist for awhile.
Luckily, I am surrounded by wonderful people who think that I am neurotic and encouraged me to take my head out of the sand and see what's really going on (really they are wonderful people if they know that I'm paralyzed by the thought of going to the dentist and they still love me and don't just grab me and shake me and say, "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? ACT LIKE AN ADULT").
I made an appointment and literally until the dentist did not tell me, "we will have to perform procedures that cost thousands of dollars that you cannot afford, or maybe you should just get dentures, which are still expensive, but problem solved. Viola!" I was sure that this was a possible outcome. I was scared. But, I am facing my fears lately and went made that appointment anyway. And now a huge weight has been lifted.
Oh my, thank goodness I have health insurance. More than once this year it has saved me from financial ruin. I was talking to my housemate Hannah (pronounced Hawn-uh, not Hann-ah. Do not forget this. She acts like it's cool if you do, but it's not!) I was talking to Hannah and we agreed that when we and our friends are really excited about the opportunity to see a doctor something is clearly wrong with the system-- not a secret.
I love visiting the dentist. My previous dentist was a kindly old man who had been my dentist since I was in elementary school. By the way, I know this is not how a person is supposed to write. If this were a paper I wouldn't be so lax. But it's just us gabbin', right? Right! Anywho, my old dentist was awesome, but I don't have a car and his office is located out of town. He was a nice man, but I was so worried that he would think that I was incredibly irresponsible in caring for my teeth. And how did I thank him? He lost a customer :(
My new dentist is very nice. He is in the same building, I realized, as my very charming optometrist. His hygienist initially made me very uncomfortable because she kept praising me and telling me to, "close your beautiful eyes again" while she was doing the x-rays. But, she did make me feel like I aced my dental exam, all because I didn't complain or squirm. And she didn't scold me when I admitted to not flossing. Unafraid of my new dentist's judgment I told him my concerns (not about the dentures) outright and asked immediately about billing.
So, my teeth were kinda janky. That I was rightfully concern about. However, it was not nearly as bad as I had imagined. And while what I had to pay is more than I want to afford, I can afford it and it is worth it. Done.
I did feel a little like I was playing a game at being as polite as I possibly could be. Do you ever do that? Just get joy about using your good manners. Sometimes I feel like because I'm tired or hungry or disappointed with life my manners aren't wonderful. And I feel like a jerk, because I'm acting like one But I do sometimes get a kick out of feeling like I'm acting in exactly the right way, in treating people who are doing their job with courtesy and respect. Then I feel disingenuous, like I'm just being nice because I want people to think I'm nice... and that was my trip to the dentist. Thanks!
I had cavities. Let us be open and honest to begin with. I have been avoiding going to the dentist for some time now. Although I have consistently had health insurance for most of my twenties (I know, I'm super lucky) I put it off because I was so afraid that even with health insurance I wouldn't be able to afford to fix my broken, disgusting mouth (who wants a kiss?). So, jerk that I am, I had not been to the dentist for awhile.
Luckily, I am surrounded by wonderful people who think that I am neurotic and encouraged me to take my head out of the sand and see what's really going on (really they are wonderful people if they know that I'm paralyzed by the thought of going to the dentist and they still love me and don't just grab me and shake me and say, "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? ACT LIKE AN ADULT").
I made an appointment and literally until the dentist did not tell me, "we will have to perform procedures that cost thousands of dollars that you cannot afford, or maybe you should just get dentures, which are still expensive, but problem solved. Viola!" I was sure that this was a possible outcome. I was scared. But, I am facing my fears lately and went made that appointment anyway. And now a huge weight has been lifted.
Oh my, thank goodness I have health insurance. More than once this year it has saved me from financial ruin. I was talking to my housemate Hannah (pronounced Hawn-uh, not Hann-ah. Do not forget this. She acts like it's cool if you do, but it's not!) I was talking to Hannah and we agreed that when we and our friends are really excited about the opportunity to see a doctor something is clearly wrong with the system-- not a secret.
I love visiting the dentist. My previous dentist was a kindly old man who had been my dentist since I was in elementary school. By the way, I know this is not how a person is supposed to write. If this were a paper I wouldn't be so lax. But it's just us gabbin', right? Right! Anywho, my old dentist was awesome, but I don't have a car and his office is located out of town. He was a nice man, but I was so worried that he would think that I was incredibly irresponsible in caring for my teeth. And how did I thank him? He lost a customer :(
My new dentist is very nice. He is in the same building, I realized, as my very charming optometrist. His hygienist initially made me very uncomfortable because she kept praising me and telling me to, "close your beautiful eyes again" while she was doing the x-rays. But, she did make me feel like I aced my dental exam, all because I didn't complain or squirm. And she didn't scold me when I admitted to not flossing. Unafraid of my new dentist's judgment I told him my concerns (not about the dentures) outright and asked immediately about billing.
So, my teeth were kinda janky. That I was rightfully concern about. However, it was not nearly as bad as I had imagined. And while what I had to pay is more than I want to afford, I can afford it and it is worth it. Done.
I did feel a little like I was playing a game at being as polite as I possibly could be. Do you ever do that? Just get joy about using your good manners. Sometimes I feel like because I'm tired or hungry or disappointed with life my manners aren't wonderful. And I feel like a jerk, because I'm acting like one But I do sometimes get a kick out of feeling like I'm acting in exactly the right way, in treating people who are doing their job with courtesy and respect. Then I feel disingenuous, like I'm just being nice because I want people to think I'm nice... and that was my trip to the dentist. Thanks!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
this is it
I am incredibly bored and am trying to accomplish something other than going to the store and buying booze tonight. I have boxes and boxes of books just waiting to be read, but tonight I’ve been lazing around, checking Facebook… thinking about going to bed even though it’s not yet 9 pm. This is the problem with winter. I welcome the rain (intermittently) and the cold, but the lack of light kills me.
Tomorrow night we are throwing a going away dinner for one of my best friends, who is moving semi-permanently to Deutschland and getting married. I am conflicted; very sorry for my loss, incredibly jealous that she is moving to Germany, and very happy that she is marrying a wonderful man whom I like very much. (Who? Whom? WHO? Object… subject… predicate… f*ckate)
Meg is an incredibly funny, awesome (dude!), loyal friend who I met when we both transferred to college and became roommates through a mutual friend. Now she is getting married. And having babies soon too, most likely. That is what she wants and it makes total sense and I am so delighted for her. I remind myself that while moving to Germany sounds like a grand adventure *so jealous* she is actually pretty well acquainted with the place, having lived there before and speaks the language fluently too. She’s cool. Rather than being the exotic-teutonic jaunt I dream of, she will actually be nestling into domestic life, continuing to work hard, planning to raise a family. That (I am so self-involved) is my problem. I don’t want to live real life. I want to live life on vacation, and as long as things are not constantly changing or improving I will never be satisfied. Germany, beautiful Germany, you are so far out of my grasp and perfect in my mind.
I guess we are of the age where getting married and having kids is totally normal. I don’t question anyone’s desire for those things. It all seems perfectly reasonable. However, I am a lady cannot conceive of it right now. I like the idea of wanting to marry someone. I think it’d be neat to have someone want to marry me (if he’s a thinking man, what a compliment!). However the execution sounds messy. Maybe it’s, no probably, it’s because I have only recently felt at all capable of taking care of myself. I don’t think that I would have to take care of my partner, but I know that my partner should not have to take care of me. That would be unfortunate and unworkable. Basically, it’s a huge, huge deal and while it’s fun to get silly and romantic, the idea of marrying someone is terrifying. Word!
And so with a heavy heart I bid Meg adieu. She is an incredibly capable person who is moving onto the next stage of her life. I only hope that in the coming months and years I can get my you-know-what together enough to visit her. She works hard to make the things that she wants become reality. She has more than once worked two jobs in order to save money. She has spent months at a time away from her fiancé. She spent a year baby-sitting bratty kids to be able to stay in the country. She’s neat. I will miss her.
*people come and people go, what are you going to do about it? This used to be much harder for me, as people I love seem to move away every few months. I’ve adjusted slightly.
Tomorrow night we are throwing a going away dinner for one of my best friends, who is moving semi-permanently to Deutschland and getting married. I am conflicted; very sorry for my loss, incredibly jealous that she is moving to Germany, and very happy that she is marrying a wonderful man whom I like very much. (Who? Whom? WHO? Object… subject… predicate… f*ckate)
Meg is an incredibly funny, awesome (dude!), loyal friend who I met when we both transferred to college and became roommates through a mutual friend. Now she is getting married. And having babies soon too, most likely. That is what she wants and it makes total sense and I am so delighted for her. I remind myself that while moving to Germany sounds like a grand adventure *so jealous* she is actually pretty well acquainted with the place, having lived there before and speaks the language fluently too. She’s cool. Rather than being the exotic-teutonic jaunt I dream of, she will actually be nestling into domestic life, continuing to work hard, planning to raise a family. That (I am so self-involved) is my problem. I don’t want to live real life. I want to live life on vacation, and as long as things are not constantly changing or improving I will never be satisfied. Germany, beautiful Germany, you are so far out of my grasp and perfect in my mind.
I guess we are of the age where getting married and having kids is totally normal. I don’t question anyone’s desire for those things. It all seems perfectly reasonable. However, I am a lady cannot conceive of it right now. I like the idea of wanting to marry someone. I think it’d be neat to have someone want to marry me (if he’s a thinking man, what a compliment!). However the execution sounds messy. Maybe it’s, no probably, it’s because I have only recently felt at all capable of taking care of myself. I don’t think that I would have to take care of my partner, but I know that my partner should not have to take care of me. That would be unfortunate and unworkable. Basically, it’s a huge, huge deal and while it’s fun to get silly and romantic, the idea of marrying someone is terrifying. Word!
And so with a heavy heart I bid Meg adieu. She is an incredibly capable person who is moving onto the next stage of her life. I only hope that in the coming months and years I can get my you-know-what together enough to visit her. She works hard to make the things that she wants become reality. She has more than once worked two jobs in order to save money. She has spent months at a time away from her fiancé. She spent a year baby-sitting bratty kids to be able to stay in the country. She’s neat. I will miss her.
*people come and people go, what are you going to do about it? This used to be much harder for me, as people I love seem to move away every few months. I’ve adjusted slightly.
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