If a cow ever got the chance...

I called in sick today... no real reason, just that I have eight billion things to do at home and absolutely nothing to do at work. I could have gone in and cleaned off my desk and filed all the backlist reprint books (which would have taken about twenty minutes), but then it would have looked really suspicious if I called in sick on Thursday. This way it at least looks as though my unfortunate illness interrupted some very important reprint corrections I was submitting.

Big fight with C and once again I don't know what to do and nothing has been resolved. We almost broke up. Then he tried to take it back. Then I cried. Then we drank some whiskey and, um, went to work. (This was Monday night /Tuesday morning). We had decided that he would come over again last night so we could work out the parameters of our separation, but it was a little painful to get into again so instead we went grocery shopping. Later, we sat on the back porch while he smoked a cigar (an affectation I can't help making fun of, even though there are many things about him I can't help making fun of, which is why he resents me so much). That was it.

I wish it was clear that we should break up, but the more we talk about it the less clear it becomes. I do feel that we aren't a normal twenty-four-year-old couple. We don't go to shows, or improv productions, or movies. We don't really go anywhere together. I hate his friends because they remind me of all the low-IQ types in my high school who spent every Saturday night sitting in the back of their trucks in the convenience store parking lot (no, really), drinking Bud Ice and listening to Warrant. He loves my friends but they think he's pedantic and boring. (Yeah, you know you do.) So basically he comes over once or twice a week and we sit here. I know I want more out of life but right now I can't imagine how that would happen. My first impulse when I see someone who looks like they'd be interesting to talk to, is to take out a book or cross the street or sit on the opposite end of the train car, so that they won't talk to me. Then I come here and complain about how I have no friends. Even though I know this is stupid and obnoxious and self-centered.

Maybe today is a good day to call my Primary Care Physician. That way when the receptionist asks me what my problem is, I can yell "Anxiety! Severe anxiety!" into the phone without drawing the mockery of my coworkers. Maybe drugs would be a good thing to have.

Sorry for the crappy entry.

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