And the Deadline Drifts By

I did the passive aggressive thing about my high school reunion. I "forgot" to send in my check and RSVP.

Reality? I hated those people for years (in some cases seven, depending on where we were in middle school) and I'm not spending $100 (and that doesn't include the cost of booze) to go socialize with them 10 years after the fact. I'll go down the day after to spend the day with Sadie so I can actually, you know, see her for the first time in five years.

I was going to go, just so I could see Sadie, and then I was like, "These people didn't like me and I really didn't like them. Why bother?" In fact, we didn't like each other so much it lead to the first nervous breakdown. Not pretty. Why would I want to see people who gave me a nervous breakdown? I wouldn't.

People think I'm exaggerating about the whole breakdown thing. I'm not. I did. I wasn't hospitalized for it, but my mother told me after the second one (or maybe the third) that she and my dad were going to hospitalize me if I didn't pull my shit together. My response to her was, "Try it and I will run away from home and you will never, ever see me again." I had gotten into a horrific argument with my sister about something so negligible that I can't even remember what it was but I was consumed with rage and I really wanted to kill her. I was also driving at the time and considered (for about a tenth of a second) driving my car into a tree just so she would shut up. And the sad fact? She wasn't even talking. She was just sitting in the car, trying not to cry or maybe crying - I can't remember - while I screamed at her. The shrink I ended up having to see said I really wanted me to stop talking. No? Really? You charged my insurance company $150 for that hour or whatever it was just so you could tell me that? Lady, even I knew that one after I calmed down.

I hated therapy. I just wanted the medication and I wanted everyone to leave me alone and not talk me to death about being depressed. I was sad and I was quite possibly demented about being sad - end of discussion. The drugs helped. The drugs were, in fact, miraculous and I would highly recommend them to anyone. Until Omar met me, he scoffed at antidepressants. Thought they were cooked up doctors to trick people into stop being mopey. Then he saw me not take them for awhile and quickly reversed that decision.

I went off them for good after college. My life was in a much better place. I self-medicated in college, taking them when I was feeling low and not taking them when I was feeling better. I hated them. I took them from steadily from junior or senior in high school until junior year in college. Periodically, I dosed myself senior year and for a little while after college, but I stopped once I moved out of parents' house. I didn't like the way they made me feel any more and they about killed my sex drive. Murdered it. Took it out back, beat the shit of it, and left it to die. I definitely hated that.

I haven't taken an anti-depressant in years. I don't feel depressed anymore. But I have these moments, sometimes, these total moments of manicness. I feel inexplicably weepy. I remember shortly after moving in with Omar I washed his white t-shirts with something and dyed them all pink, which I had never done in my LIFE because my mother was very good about teaching me how to do laundry. I called him at work and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed into the phone about sorry I was. Even now sometimes something so minute sets me off that I get this panicky feeling in my chest that makes my skin tight and my eyes water. So maybe I was never really cured and I'll be susceptible to depression again sometime in my life. But for now, those moments come and pass and I talk myself out of them. I tell myself that I just have a short temper and am not a complete rage maniac like I used to be. And most of the time it's true. It takes a lot for me to lose my temper (although not, clearly, my patience because I seem to lose that at the drop of a hat). So on those few occasions when I do let it fly, I tell myself it's an aberration.

But the point is, thinking about high school brings me back to all that ugliness when I was sick and unhappy and so very, very sad. I can't imagine why I even THOUGHT that I would want to socialize with those people when they helped push me off of a very scary cliff all those years ago. I do miss certain people and not all of it was awful. But most of it was and I don't want to be back there again.

So I didn't send in my RSVP. I let my ambivalance make my decision for me. So instead of going North to Hell the day after Thanksgiving, I'll be hanging out at home with my husband after work, cuddling on the floor since our new couch is eight to ten weeks away from delivery, and probably watching a Bond movie or Office Space. And that will be just fine with me.

Moved In - Kinda

We moved, kinda, on the fourteenth. All the heavy stuff went to the new place (meaning every piece of furniture we were keeping). The rest went on the 19th. Which is probably why I forgot my dad's birthday. My parents came up on the 21st and helped us unpack. We still have some boxes (mostly clothes and stuff we don't use on a regular basis) clogging up the upstairs portion of our new abode, but I have a hard time forcing myself to unpack it. I hate unpacking. And packing. And moving. And my landlord.

The new place is nice, but it was NOT CLEAN when we moved in. Before we left our apartment, I cleaned the kitchen and the bathrooms. Didn't scrub them, but I cleaned them up. This place's kitchen and bathrooms were FILTHY. FILTHY. FILTHY. I don't even believe three times in caps covers how disgustingly dirty they were. I'm sorry, if you're going to force people to move, bring in a professional cleaning service so it's one less thing they have to do when they get there. Give me an effing break!! The main bathroom in particular was horrifying. And I was entirely too tired the day we moved to clean it so I must confess that we showered in the dirty shower because it was eleven o'clock at night and I couldn't face scrubbing down and bleaching a bathroom that late after moving boxes and packing since eight a.m. that morning. Thank the Lord I convinced Omar he had to take moving day off.

Finally found a job. It is for very minor money ($14/hr, yikes) in Boston. Working for an insurance/financial company as either a Customer service Rep or an Annuities Rep. Yeah, I don't know what it is either. But we take a two week training course, so I suppose I'll learn.

I'm not thrilled about the job (my commute is a forty-five minute train ride to South Station, then a ten minute train ride from South Station), but it's money and we need it and it's not forever and it's a great company to get my foot in the door of.

Whatever. I loved not working. It was probably the best thing in the whole world, but I couldn't stay out of work forever, so here we are.

Horrible, Horrible Daughter

I am a horrible, horrible daughter. Really. I'm right up there (or down there) with whatever the most horrible daughters in history. I'm like Reagan and Goneril in King Lear. I'm like Cathy in Wuthering Heights, except much less annoying. I'm like Abby in ER who treats her mother like shit. Except it was my dad.

I forgot to call him on his birthday.

I feel like such a jerk. My parents came up this past weekend to help me move and I forgot to call my dad on his birthday. They're always there for me and I totally forgot it. I wish I could say it was because I was busy. And I was busy. Hi, we're moving and half my life is one house and half in the other. But still, I should have remembered to call.

Horrible.

Kerry Healey is Douchebag

And that says it all.

I've Tried...

... for Baby Sis to like Studio 60. It's the show she recaps for Fandom Talk. And I wanted to like it because she does and because she recaps it and I want to read her recaps and know what she's talking about. However, I find the show unfunny, smug, and Amanda Peet's character is beyond irritating. And Bradley Whitford, whom I adored on West Wing when he was playing arrogant bastard Josh as a charming and talented know-it-all, sucks on this show. He's basically playing Josh but without the charm or talent. And he has those fucking irritating half glasses that I want to shove down his throat.

I realize that Aaron Sorkin is using this show as a commentary on his shoddy treatment by NBC. I realize he hates bloggers, middle America, and Network Executives. I realize he thinks people are much less intelligent than he is. Yet, I put up with it on the West Wing because I liked his idealized version of how politics should and could be. I didn't like the MS Scandal, mostly because I have relatives who have MS and I thought that was a shitty thing to use as a plot device. Anyway, I've lost a lot of respect for Sorkin and I can't freaking watch his smug show anymore. I tried. It's coming off the TiVo season pass.

Currently, we TiVo Heroes, My Name is Earl, The Office, Lost, and Veronica Mars. We have seasons passes to those and we love them. Even Omar likes Veronica Mars. He really likes Kidnapped, which is too bad because it looks like it's going to get cancelled. Which sucks, because I like it too.

Rainy Sundays

Today is one of those raw and cold rainy days where you just want to curl up with a hot cup of something and read or watch old black and white movies. It is not one of those days where you want to go to your in-law's house and put up with your husband's nosy bitch of an aunt. And yet...

Omar's sister's birthday is this week and his parents invited us for Sunday dinner and cake. His aunt was there. She asks a lot of questions. She knows everything, including how we should live our lives. It's super fun! And that's all I'm going to say about it.

So I'm being evicted. And it's stressful. Our landlords called us and told us they're selling our unit and we have to be out by the middle of October. Needless to say, we panicked slightly. Our lease dictates they have to give us 60 days, but they're only giving us two weeks? Then they offered us the only property they're keeping, a townhouse at the front of the complex that's the same size as ours, but is two floors instead of one. We lose a shower (our place has two full baths, the new one only one and a half). They're not charging us extra rent or anything like that. But we want them to pay our moving costs.

They're evicting all their tenants because they're selling all their properties. We got the offer of the townhouse because we pay our rent on time and never bug them for anything. They live in Florida during the winter, so they want everything settled in the next two weeks. I'm not completely happy about this. I love my little apartment. I'll miss it a lot. But I am going to get a new couch out of this deal, so we'll see what's going to happen. Still, Omar and I both had conniptions about this. Technically, they're in violation of our lease. They told us we could stay through our lease, but we'd have people trooping through our apartment all the time. Plus, we'd have to keep this place neat and there's no way in hell that's going to happen.

Well, who knows? We're going to take a look at the new place and start packing this week. God help us, I hate moving.