oh science. delicious science. why must you be so expensive and tiring? especially after waking up at 4 this morning. and no wifi connecting at the airport? but at least science makes bed all floofy and comfy.
does science know i will only close my eyes for a second. but be lost for hours?
can science explain why there were only three choices on the airplane for liquid refreshments? and less one for solid foodings?
it's now been five months since the whole thing started. we traveled to watch a dear friend place and lock the wedding shackles. and in doing so, we waived our right to be together. we gave up our place in line. handed over our wad of cash. and flew to california for a strange sort of goodbye/holiday.
we talk every day. or at least we try to. time constraints. work. the rotation of the earth. these things are hurdles.
this is the first month out of the five where i've been working. thank goodness for staffing agencies and the large expanse of massachusetts that's been corporatized. the first three months were in a delightful little town. a town that has an old timey park complete with white gazebo and a plaque reading "a main street town". it's lovely.
small. quaint. village-esque. read: not much going on.
but that wasn't the main problem. i was depressed. i get that now. i didn't really feel depressed. i just. i was just not motivated. i wasn't interested in doing a whole heck of a lot. cleaning. laundry. cooking. looking for a job. filling in visa forms. none of it.
i think lots of reason are obvious. others maybe are a bit more deeply rooted. hidden by years of undergrowth and strangling figs. you'd have to hack with a machete just to reach the spot where they are buried. perhaps dig a little with your fingers. to find more explanation for the depression. regardless. i was unhappy.
it's a vicious cycle really. you're sad about something. so you stop doing other stuff. then you get sad about the things you stopped. then about how you have no money. then about how you're lazy and aren't "really" trying to find a job. and then it's all a giant katamari ball full of little clones of your insecurity. all legs and arms wriggling. screaming and wailing. as you push yourself farther and farther. gathering speed. and collecting more of your crazy. more of your "issues".
but i'm here now. i'm working. i'm motivated. despite this weekend playing video games, i'm getting myself out. i make plans. i see people. i've been blogging *waves hand to blogosphere*. i've been reading. i've even been eating healthier.
and yet. i'm still unhappy. don't get me wrong. all the above is great. but the daily chats. the talking long distance to someone who by all rights, should be next to me. it tears at my heart. you've got to think about it. four months. of me not working. of my debt still being there. of me being depressed and lazy. he's a saint. but i can hear the weariness. as we discuss yet another problem that came up. new tires for the car. my credit card being over the limit (!). the car stalling. the challenges of feeding ourselves for less than 20 bucks a week (10 gbp for him).
this situation blows. and not the good kind like through a party noisemaker or a bubble wand. this is the really crappy kind. like a warm breeze over the thawing shit, from the neighbors giant dog, which has been buried under the snow for the past three months. or the musty smell of day old vomit and urine which wafts off the homeless dude on the bench as he sits in the sun.
so even after we cashed in my pension plan from the old office. we're still short. we have to wait til he gets paid and i get paid this week. and then, fingers crossed, i can pay the application fee.
of course. then that leaves me the small problem of working up enough funds to fly home.
last night i dreamed the world was white. i built a snowman with my dad. my cheeks were tinted with exuberance and chill. my laughter crystallized and floated down to mingle with my fathers sonorous voice in the soft bed of snowflakes.
it was early morning. the sun was out. so were the stars. it just me and my dad.
my office is located in a market place. well, the market is located on our offices butt really. so every once in a while, very much similar to a butt, the market makes it's presence known. not with noxious fumes, but with a bag of schwag. coupons, candy, random chintzy things... and gift cards to the stores in the market.
i got about $35 bucks for bananannaananaaanana republik. which means i may be able to purchase one sock from a pair. i'll put the other one on layaway.
in this new apartment i've killed two giant spiders. and i mean giant. not the boulder in your shoe type of giant. but honest to goodness giant. about an inch and a half to two inches.
last weekend the first spider crept out towards me from under the laundry pile i was folding. this teaches me one of two things. either fold the laundry sooner and don't leave it in a pile for a week or so. OR. don't do laundry. i'm going with the second. so the spider icks it's icky way towards me. i shriek in a totally dignified manner which startles the damn thing into beating a hasty retreat... into the sleeve of one of my hubby's sweaters. i weigh my options, shake out the sweater and chance having a spider land on my feet. OR... scream for the man to deal with it. i chose neither. i begin to bash the hell out of the sleeve. all while screaming "spider!" *bash* "spider!" *bash* "spider!" *bash* "SPIDER!!!" finally the man comes into the room. pushing me aside in a totally manlike manner. sweat glinting off of his bulging biceps. his long golden hair wafting in the breeze. his loin cloth stretched... "oh conan..." i gasp in a typically weak-femaled voice... wait. no. uhm.
anyway... spider bashed. husband comes in to the room and tells me to back off while he deals with it. he shakes out the sweater. out rolls the quite dead and thoroughly bashed spider. i am oh so pleased with myself at this point. i mean. i killed it. me. little me. all by myself. i gaze at him happily as he carts away my kill. surely he'll make it a trophy to hang above the mantle. an icon for us to gaze at in pride.
nope. into the bin it goes.
now, onto just this moment passed. the kitten is rolling around on the living room floor. intently focused on my purse. we assume she's engrossed in her own shadow which is the norm for her. i head to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. i walk back into the room. there, in a mexican standoff is the kitten and another giant spider. obviously this spider is here to avenge the savage bashing of it's kinsmen? kinswoman? kinspider. i can see the menacing glint in it's many eyes. i can almost hear it say, "ha-low, my name is in-eego manylegged, you bashed my fah-thar, pree-pare to die."
i gasp in fear. i contemplate tossing the water glass at it. my conanish, i mean couragous husband is miles away at the computer, listening to musak. he turns in my direction at the gasp. he see's the spider. he rises. just as he stands i grab my flipflop. position it above the icky critter. and mutter "you gotta ask yourself, do you feel lucky punk?... well, do you?" and i bash the living hell out of it.
okay, maybe it wasn't that dramatic. but i did kill it. i smooshed it under the flipflop. flipped the flop over to inspect the damage. then went quickly to the nearest chair. and stood on it until the husband had removed the remains.
yea. i am one kick ass spider killer.
i am. just ignore the fact that i am sitting in odd yoga poses in order to keep my feet off the spider infested floor.