Dear everyone,
I have spent the better part of January pretending to be a monster, stomping around with my hands like claws, yelling, "Graar! I am a monster!" (According to Steph, absolutely no one finds this scary.) Consequently, there have been a lot of people shaking their heads ruefully. When we were in college Sarah would say that she could tell when I was in a group of people--I was always surrounded by people, then--because she could see them moving out of the way of my flailing hand gestures. Nowadays, I imagine you can tell where I've just been by the trail of raised eyebrows and shaking heads.
We learned this month, as well, that it's a poor idea to feed me cocktails and then hand me a sharp sword, because I will immediately thread it through a belt loop and start pretending to be a pirate. Pretending to be a pirate is what I do, people.
A couple weeks ago all of my solid lines turned dotted when I received a surprise (probably drunken) email from the boy with the crooked smile. I spent a few days furious, absolutely fuming, at the thought that he was trying to reenter my life after he'd vanished from it without so much as a post-it note last year. After a little while, when there was no further answer to my short but perfectly polite response, I calmed down. Perhaps it was just an apology. And in any case I finally feel like the whole mess is closed, like I can put a period at the end of that particular episode.
Onward.
This afternoon I was an accessory to a little romantic subplot when my coworker's husband wanted to sneak into her office to surprise her with flowers. I created a diversion to get her away from her desk, and he snuck in and hid behind the door. I'm just the girl to have aiding and abetting in these schemes--I love that sort of thing.
I do best when it's cold and rainy; I've never gotten used to the combination of cold and sun. My neighbor is currently singing along quite badly to some very loud, very bass-heavy music. (Perhaps Floater?) I'm feeling a little bit like a ball of rubber bands, like I won't be sure until I hit the ground which way I'll bounce next. I am content, and pretty sure that if I wasn't going to be traveling for work in March that I'd be going stir-crazy. I always think that I need an adventure, but I need to quit with that because I sort of am an adventure.
I don't have a lot of plans for February yet, but I'll make them. And they will be little colored beads on what I am still determined--in spite of January's proof to the contrary--will be a very good year.
Kiss yourself twice on either elbow for me. I think you're tops.
Love,
me
No comments:
Post a Comment