~Thursday, January 28, 2010
~Tuesday, January 26, 2010
So Friday night I went out for happy hour with friends and I didn't invite Christopher because I was kinda pissed at him. Over a few beers and some tator tots I watched these perfect girls with their perfect employed boyfriends that don't sleep too much and love their girlfriends. And after a few more beers, I leaned over to the girls and flat out stated that Christopher was not The One. And they said that was okay and as long as I'm having fun, I don't have to end it. One day I'll be over it and then I'll know. And I had that last beer and decided that maybe I was over it. Then my friends lean back to me and tell me they didn't really like him anyway. Katie said she thought he was hitting on her on Thanksgiving and Harvey said he got a little too drunk on New Years. Then I got protective because he is my boyfriend and I do like him, albeit not very much at the moment. When I sobered up, I realized that maybe it was just the $2 draft beers and frustration talking and I should just shelve The One debate for now. But now I know my friends don't like my boyfriend and their opinions hold great water with me and now I don't know what I have done.
~Wednesday, January 20, 2010
- Ignore it. Ignore him and the lawyers and maybe they'll decide I'm not worthwhile.
- Call up Little Lizard Insurance company, who he is suing, and give them the proper information they need to make this sham suit go away. (He lied on his police report and I know all the information that they can connect the dots with). If the suit is dropped, then no need to involve me.
~Tuesday, January 19, 2010
~Monday, January 18, 2010
~Monday, January 11, 2010
~Thursday, January 07, 2010
I still go to therapy. I go once a month "for maintenance purposes" as Christopher put it the one time I talked to him about it.
I had my appointment this week and I came out with my heart full of happiness. I skipped to the car and called my mom just like I would on a really awesome first date. That kind of brimming, bubbling happiness.
Anyway, that is not the point of this story. I'll get to that later.
The point of the story is that I had handed my therapist my check and told her how excited I was about 2010 and basically claimed the new year as my bitch. I said that last year was so bad, this one just had to be mine.
She nods her head and tells me this story about her cousins and how their father died unexpectantly in September and their mother died two days before Christmas. "This year just has to be good," she repeats to me in their story.
And then their youngest brother died unexpectantly on New Year's morning. Heart attack, just like the father. The sun wasn't even up yet.
I swallowed. "Can't we just chalk that one up to the Rule of Threes?" I squeaked.
But inside I was kicking and screaming WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TELL ME THIS STORY, YOU EVIL WOMAN?
Love, Sarah at 11:05 PM|
~Wednesday, January 06, 2010
- Live on top of 75 dead cats
- Have the floor of my bathroom eaten through by 3 tons of used adult diapers
- Sound like the girl who was inhaling computer duster
- Be arrested in a trailer park wearing a cut-off t-shirt