Wine

I just sent an email to a dear friend who has been attacking me for my voting choice. I have thrown in the towel and asked for the conversation to end (even when I asked her to not write me until after the election she wrote right back and said, but have you considered this??). I may have lost this friend. I hope my words were soft enough that I could eat them if I had to, but I am exhausted. This was the third and final attempt at words that might not make her see fire. I didn't want to lash out at her the way I felt lashed out at, but as I said in (was it only the last post?) the last post, it is so hard to get tone when you are writing on a screen.

I found this in a compilation of Madeleine L'Engle's writings. It's from the poem "Crazy Jane talks with the Bishop" by W.B. Yeats.

Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.

Well, I feel like, in my earlier angry thoughts at this friend, my exasperation, that I was in the place in excrement. And that maybe the only place to get out of there, if she is not going to honor boundaries, is to break boundaries and possibly "rent" (as in, rip) the relationship.

Maybe I can sleep now--what's done is done, and only in the morning or the next morning or the next will I either get a white flag or another diatribe on why I am wrong. Or maybe she will wait until after the election. Time will only tell.

In other news, my apartment is a mess. Nothing new there. But the new thing is that I have decided to have my birthday party at a restaurant. Because then I won't have to worry about buying too much or too little food and drink. And because I'd rather work systematically at the mess here, instead of just moving mess from room to room. I am exhausted. Oh, did I say that already?

This summer I moved the back room into the front room so that the sofa could go down the stairs. Then I moved the contents of the bathroom out into the kitchen so the plumber could unplug the bathtub. Then I moved the contents of my car into the basement so that I could carpool to the retreat. So now I still have things from the back room in the front room. I still have the contents of my bathroom in the front room. And while my car is pretty clean, I have no idea where my umbrellas are. (In that big plastic container that holds most of the contents from my car?)

I need to do laundry. I need to do dishes. I need to call the Student Loan folks and say, um, we need to reduce the payments. I need to see if I can get an absentee ballot (if we're as busy as we hope to be, I may not be able to slip away and vote at my own polling place, which is not the same polling place as the one where I'll be working on Election day.)

Ugh.

But, on the bright side, I have a roof over my head, a reliable car (and a full tank of gas) and maybe one pair of clean underwear. That's a big maybe.

I'll try to see if I can get some sleep.

spending too much time looking at the closed door...

When one door of happiness closes, another one opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us... (Helen Keller)

This week, if I had health, I could:

• go to a party tonight for my friends graduating from med school.
• go to a wedding shower on Wednesday for my friend who is graduating from med school today and getting married on Friday
• go to a wedding on Saturday (I WILL BE AT THIS EVENT, come rain or come shine.)

Oh, and it's Memorial Day this weekend! (I should be glad, I get an extra day off, but...)

The cold still is with me. My mood has turned from "eh" to worse.

And I can quote portions of Season 4, Vol 3 to you: (Carrie) "That's my squirrel?" and "I can't believe you're going out with someone named after a tree!" and (Miranda) "that's my scary age"(43) and (Carrie) "45 is mine."

Last night I sat between two men who talked to each other about the 10% rule or the 10 year rule. So gentlemanly of them...one had the theory that age of girlfriend shouldn't equal more than a 10% difference between yours. I actually remember having the "age" conversation with said gentleman at exact seat, at least a year ago. The other had the theory that 10 years older or younger, as long as it wasn't illegal. Nice, guys. Real pleasant for this 35 year old almost-SPINSTER to be listening to. I think I'm getting very bitter. Is it any WONDER???

Also, had an email exchange with my psychiatrist this morning:

Me: "I forgot to schedule after our last appt, when should I reschedule?"
Him: "If you're feeling fine mood-wise, 4-5 weeks. If not, then sooner."

Until this morning, I think I would have said 4-5 weeks. I don't think my current therapist has seen me cry yet. I think she'll be getting full use of her Kleenex box this morning.

This afternoon, I HAVE to look at my bills.

A happy thought: I have some clean clothes.

Oh, and did I mention that today has already been:

trip to the chiropractor.

In a few, I'll hop in the car for:

trip to the therapist.

Then I'll catch a quick lunch and then motor to Oakland for:

a blood test. (It's for the study I'm in, see other blog.)

I've been re-reading Jill Davis' Girl's Poker Night. I love this book. I love this book so much.

Oh, internets...or Sarah Louise shows her whining muscles in blogland

So, I'm in the crying jags place. I cried when Miranda got pregnant. I cried when she didn't have an abortion and Charlotte said, "We're having a baby?" (The SATC fans will get it.)

And now I'm thinking it's more prudent to stay home than to go away this weekend. To work a half day on Friday and Saturday and to take Monday off. (Or some combination of that.) Because Tuesday (the polls) will be hard. I mean, I've been getting up at 8 a.m. and Tuesday I have to BE THERE at six a.m.

We had a phone fight, the 'rents and me, mostly because we're all stressed about different things. I watched the rest of the SATC episodes left on the video and started an email to the 'rents. Then I started crying. Then I called Mama. Mama stays up late with her schoolwork, so she was still up just now. She conceded that it would not be a relaxing weekend. Which is what I need. I need some peace and quiet. I need to be able to sleep in. Going to Sis's graduation and then church on Sunday morning and then deciding if I'm leaving Sunday or Monday....

So I'm going to sleep on it. I hate to disappoint Sis, but I would hardly see her--she's spending Friday night in Winchester, and then Saturday--well, graduation is like a wedding. You don't really SEE the person you're celebrating.

So I think I'll be staying in da Burgh. Because I haven't even started packing (well, the pills are ready.)

It would be nice to have a day to myself, to clean this apartment. To veg. To just read. To SHOP! I have coming up wedding showers, weddings, other stuff. (One wedding shower is SOON, and I only found out about it today--the bride and groom pushed up the date.)

And my throat is sore. Which could be allergies OR a scary side effect from Tegretol. (You know, the kind where it says, Tell your doctor if...)

Time to pop "You've got mail" into the VCR and slip into dreamland.

Oh, did I mention that today alone, I have fixed brakes to the tune of $250 and a temporary crown on my tooth, which will cost about that once it is a real crown??

Oh, it's that song, "they just show on up with their big heart, you find out who your friends are..." I really am a country music girl, I just like living in the city.

G'nite. I hope I can sleep...