March 17, 2007 at 12:37 am (Drama, People)
I woke up this morning out of a thick and disturbing sleep. I remember having lots of dreams, but the only one I remember was this:
I was speaking to a friend of mine and felt something go crunch in my mouth. My tooth had chipped. And then, my teeth began to fall out–more teeth than I knew I had. Even now I can remember what it felt like. They weren’t rotten, the teeth were just falling out. Then, in my dream, I told myself to wake up. And in my dream, I woke up.
Then I woke up again for real.
I woke up to the BF calling from the hospital. We talked and then I got up and prepped to get to the hospital. I felt like I had been drugged. Driving to the hospital, I broke down crying, worrying what would happen if I got to the hospital too late. Too late for what? Anything. Anything.
The BF will be in the hospital probably for the weekend, hopefully not for longer. While we were sitting in the hospital world, my mom called. My godfather–one of her closest friends when I was growing up–died suddenly a few weeks ago. I haven’t been in contact with him for a while–nothing big, just haven’t kept in touch with many people that I grew up with, including neighbors and friends of family. The funeral has already happened already too.
I guess I just always assumed he would be around.
I am overwhelmed with how keenly aware I am of time.
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March 14, 2007 at 2:41 pm (Drama, People)
The BF is headed back to the hospital for a series of tests and scan to see what’s happening. A few days ago he noticed that there was a strange swelling and bruising at one end of his scar. It got bigger. So he’s going back.
Last night we decided it would be best if I stay here because if he does get admitted into the hospital, I can borrow a friend’s car to get there, whereas I don’t drive stick so I couldn’t get back from Baltimore if I went with him. Or something.
I can’t believe there are still new, weird complications resulting from this bloody surgery. I just can’t believe it. When will it stop? The BF is frustrated and scared and tired of it, and I am too. I am going to spend today getting work done (hopefully) but with my phone right next to me, waiting for phone calls.
I hate the waiting.
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January 4, 2007 at 1:53 am (Crafty, Food, People)
Crazy Aunt Who Moonlights At Large High-End Chain Clothing Store (CAWMALHECC): Here you go!
Me: Thanks! (Trying not to gag at ugly stupid purse.)
Me three days later: I’d like to return this, although there are no tags and no gift receipt. Is that possible? (Knowing full well it may be a season or two old and I might not get much for it.)
Sales clerk: (Pleasantly.) Sure, no problem. Let me check. (Face drops noticeably.) Um, you got this as a gift? For this Christmas?
Me: Ye-es. . .
Sales clerk: Ummm.
Me: (Paranoid they think I’m trying to cheat them.) If I can’t return it, I do understand. What, is it a season old?
Sales clerk: (Embarassed.) It’s from Fall 2004.
Me: (Pit of stomach falling and feeling great wrath towards the CAWMALHECC.) I’m not surprised.
Sales clerk #2, who leans over from other register: Damn, you got that as a gift?
Me: Mmmhmm.
Sales clerk #1: (Looks mortified.) I’m really sorry, I am.
Sales clerk #2: That is NOT right.
Me: It’s ok. It’s not your fault. Thank you for checking, I do appreciate it.
Walks calmly out of store and starts plotting how to regift an old purse that the CAWMALHECC gave me years ago as a hand me down (not as a “gift”).
Nothing pisses me off more than sheer tackiness. I’d prefer nothing at all. I’m voting for no exchanging of gifts next year…. unless I regift the purse. And only for CAWMALHECC.
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October 23, 2006 at 4:50 pm (Food, People)
Teaism chai. Even when it’s not perfect (tepid, too much clove, too much milk), Teaism’s chai is always better than powdered chai mix. It’s made right there and it’s so good I illegally park some mornings on my way to campus just so I can get it. Hell yes.
Yarn. It’s holiday season… y’all know what you’re getting. I’m taking at least one night, or parts of several nights, to knit or crochet. It’s good for my hands and good for my brain.
My grandmother. When I nervously told her The Boyfriend and I were moving in together, she said (straight-faced) “Oh, so which room is he moving into?” and then cracked up. (Rather uncharacteristic of her, might I add.) My mother’s response was also not as bad as I had imagined.
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