First off, I must congratulate you on your post title this week; it’s positively “Friendsian,” and yes I just made that up. I decided to go Dickensian with mine.
Since I don’t want to gross you out, I won’t include the pictures I’ve taken this week. They have all been of my thumb wound, which is actually healing pretty nicely but it’s sensitive and not particularly pretty. I’m down to just a smallish Band-Aid to cover it when I’m typing, because you just don’t want to hear me yelp every time I hit the tender area on the keyboard, which is basically every time I hit the space key.
I know you’re curious about the impetus of my post title, so I’ll tell you a little story. I was just sitting here eating some lunch and thinking about doing some school work (I’m waiting for the results of my first first PowerPoint submission to finish my most recent class, and I’m doing the reading for my Literature, Arts, and the Humanities class) and my phone made the Facebook message noise. I thought it might be from you, so I took a look. Nope, not you, a guy. The guy, in fact, to whom (in Monica Geller terms) I gave my flower lo these many, many years ago (truth to tell, before you were born; it’s a fact). Two word message. “My first?” My one word answer, “yeah.” Nothing else, so eventually I look at FB, and sure enough a friend request. Now I’m in my Amy and Seth “Really?!” phase, ’cause Really?! Or my Meredith Grey phase, with a big helping o’ Seriously?! I looked at his page, he’s an asshole republican (judging by his posts) who lives 20 miles from the shithole I grew up in. I deleted the request; I think it was the right choice.
(The word you’re looking for is . . . )Anyway, I’m trying not to be obnoxious girl about my new gadget, but damn, I love the FitBit. I know I blather about not believing in motivation, and that’s still true, except when motivation comes disguised as competition, and you know how I am. Mostly competing with myself, but every day, I want to beat the previous day’s step count. I don’t always manage, and I let my injured thumb be an excuse to take it easy this week, but since the giant bandage came off, I’m feeling more like moving again. I’m even using the Wii, and for a fun picture for your head, picture me rocking out on Just Dance to Ke$ha and the Jackson 5 (Tik Tok and I Want You Back, respectively). Yeah, the cats don’t know what to make of it, either.
It’s starting to feel like summer might be starting to let go of her grip on this part of the world; it’s more bearable for me, which is nice. I am, after all, more than 100 pounds overweight and menopausal; the last thing I want is temperatures above 75 degrees Fahrenheit. It just makes me want to punch someone. This cooler weather is nice. I’m starting to feel like I might want to cook again, which is good. I’ve been reduced to eating salads as dinner time meals lately (and you know I don’t think of a salad as an actual meal) because it’s too hot for anything else. I’m thinking about cooking, thinking about football, thinking about school (pretty much always lately), and thinking about you and the Month of Lindsay. I still believe that great things can happen while you’re on this trip, and that’s what I’m wishing for you.
P.S. I’m now chatting with the guy. Life’s too short to be angry at someone who dumped you when you were 14, right?