I skipped out on going to DeSoto last weekend to sell the pony I was supposed to. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to hang out with Joe. My mom didn’t seem to mind but after talking to my grandparents, they were disappointed that I had been a no show for Easter. Had someone (my mom) told me that we were doing an Easter thing, I probably would of gone even though Joe didn’t want to come with me and was being a jerk about it.
Anyway, Joe and I have been hanging out pretty much nonstop since last Wednesday when I got out of school and he woke up and came over. Other than him going to his Oscar Meyer orientation. Its been cool. I like having him around. Riley loves having him around! I’ve been cooking and cleaned my apartment when he complained about it. The sleeping arrangements though leave something to be desired. Both of us aren’t sleeping well. Joe wakes up all sore and I just can’t sleep. Tonight, we are taking a break from each other.
Sunday night, I freaked out when I got into bed realizing that very likely this was the rest of my life-sleeping next to a snoring and sometimes sweaty Joe. After a while, I calmed down and thought that it would probably be okay. That I really didn’t mind too much. Afterall, I love him. I woke him up for work Monday morning, got out of bed long enough to pack him lunch, tell him about my freak out and have him tell me that he’s waited all of his life to kiss one person goodbye. (I’m paraphrasing here because I was still half asleep and can’t actually remember what he said. Whatever it was, it was sweet.) He came over after work and you would of thought I was in my pearls and heels, all 1950s putting a pot roast on the table for as excited as I was to have him come home from work to me. UGH. I just set back women’s lib like 50 years. HOWEVER, I was not in pearls and heels and had not made a pot roast. I told him he could microwave leftover stew for himself. Moving women’s lib ahead like maybe five or so years.
The moral of the story: I love Joe. Living with him will have its moments-such as Sunday when he hadn’t put on his nicotine patch and picked a fight-but will be fun and exciting. And domestic, which is neither for nor exiting. And I can’t wait for anything in the future beyond that.
Meanwhile, I havn’t been doing much over this break other than the forementioned doting on Joe. I’ve been busy making pillows shaped like a cow’s stomach and maybe some studying, very loosely defined studying.
Riley barfed in her crate last night. I was awake, of course and heard her do it. I knew I shouldn’t/couldn’t wake Joe so I went to deal with it. Riley was busy lapping it up already and I weighed my options and let her finish. I went back to bed only to have her barf half an hour later. I forced myself to clean this up. I think she’s been in the cat’s litter box again. Seriously, its a damn good thing cows don’t puke. How wrong will it be in the clinic to ask the clients to clean up their own small animal vomit? Or get someone else to do it? Would barfing myself on the floor right next to it solidify that I can’t deal with puke to the clinicians that I am being instructed by? I think it should. I may not be above doing that once to take one for the team. The team being myself. And seriously, I don’t vomit because I can’t even deal with the idea of it.
[EDIT-Originally, posted to Blogger on March 26, 2011.]
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