It's so hot in my apartment that both of my cats are sprawled on the ground, feigning death. The fan in the kitchen is on, all the windows are open, it's dark outside, but it is still 83 degrees in my living room. I had a good day today, but at the end of it I feel as stagnant as the air in here.
I worked a half day, left early for a hair appointment with the wonderful woman who has been trying to tame my long, unruly hair since high school (including when it was short, unruly and dyed blue-black in my twenties). I got home by 2pm and found that Amazon had delivered my Foxy Shazam cd, which put me in an even better mood. I came in for some alone time and, while importing my new cd, found an email from Meg with a link to digitally download the new Jonsi album for $3.99. Then Jenn called and asked to come over to drink wine and hang out, which I'm always up for. Meg called not long after Jenn arrived and we coerced her into stopping by to have pizza with us and the three of us ended up discussing theology and Cosmo magazine (which I'm not fond of) on my patio (accompanied by a bottle of white wine - thanks, Mikel). It was a music, friend and good conversation-filled day and my hair felt five pounds lighter (thank god for thinning shears), not to mention having a lovely caramelly strawberry blonde tone to it (though I kind of miss the streak of grey that snuck in above my right temple). It should have been the kind of day that leads to a good night's sleep and happy dreaming.
Instead, I made the mistake of opening my email and getting semi-bad news. More fallout from last year's fire. It will have been a year since that ever so traumatizing night at the end of this week. I suppose that means that I've had more than enough time to figure out the insurance mess, but you know insurance companies. No one wants me to know what happened, why it happened, what I can do about it--they just want me to pay them money even though they won't give me a detailed account of -again- why. Being told, "that's just the way it works" is just not good enough. It never has been for me. But I'm starting to realize that I'm not going to get answers. And if I want all the stress to go away, I need to resolve the issue. I need to suck it up, pay the weaselly bastards and get on with my life. I guess I'll just have to get over the sour feeling. You know the one - that feeling you get when you realize you've been had and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Why does that have to be part of life? Who made that stupid rule?
And so, I had another one of those horrible moments. One of those times I wished there was someone else here to bear some of the burden. It is not often I feel like that, but it crept up and tackled me tonight. I found myself briefly wishing there was even someone here to just lean on while I have a little breakdown. But there isn't someone here for that and I'm not going to dissolve into a heap of angst and tears on the floor when there's no one to clean up the mess. Maybe that right there is a vote for not having anyone around for that purpose after all. I should be proud that I can keep myself propped up.
Thief, rat, no good rabble-rouser.
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