My Day Improves

Brittney’s written up our lunch and made me sound all grown-up and well thought-out. On a day filled with nagging self-doubts, a girl could do a lot worse than to read something like this about herself.

Thanks, Brittney!

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The Butcher Blues

Nothing makes blogging harder-with the exception of having your fingers broken–than being sure that you are, yet again, about to embark on another two or three months of being the only income in your household.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach is like that moment when the roller coaster starts to move and you know in your head that it’s going to come back to the station, but at that second, you don’t quite believe it.

Sometimes, not very often, I take to my bed. It’s the one really indulgent self-pitying thing I do whenever the Butcher quits his job. I go upstairs and lay down and just succumb to every fear I have and then fall asleep and get up and go to work and figure, well, I’m not dead yet.

The Butcher has not, as far as I know, quit his job, but the day is still young and he has it in his head that that’s what he’s going to do.

I am sad, folks, that I don’t have enough money to not care whether or not he has a job.

Hire the Butcher!

Also, I should mention that the Butcher is looking for another job. He’s not left this one yet–thank god for small favors–but he’s on his way out.

I have lots of mixed feelings about the whole thing. He deserves a job he’d actually like, for instance, and I want him to be happy. On the other hand, he just must keep this job, even though he hates it, until he finds another one.

There can be no other way.

And yet…

And yet the thing that most irritates me about the Butcher is that he doesn’t plan long-term or even medium term. He does whatever it takes to avoid being uncomfortable and to immediately rectify any discomfort he’s currently feeling.

I don’t know how one convinces another that a little discomfort in the short-term prevents a lot of discomfort later on.

I don’t think you can.

God, I hope he doesn’t quit this job.

The Most Awesome Cat

So, the crazy Christian neighbors now have an orange cat, just like our orange cat, but a little thinner and with a white tip on his tail. This doesn’t prevent some folks from chasing him around the neighborhood when drunk trying to convince him to come home–the differences are that subtle.

This cat, though, is more awesome than any cat we own, because the crazy Christian cat is fearless. It’ll come up to our dog. It’ll stand down cars. And best of all, it follows that karate-chopping kid around like a dog.

It’s such an awesome cat that I’m rethinking my caution around the crazy Christian kid.

Straight Men and Gay Women, Come to My Aid!

Straight men and gay women, I don’t believe I’ve ever asked anything of you. I’ve enlisted your gay male friends and straight women folk to reconsider supporting the Butcher, but you, straight men and gay women, I’ve not, before now, called on you for help.

Today, I need that help. I must ask you, do you think I’ve gotten exponentially hotter in the past week?

I think I’m fine looking. People aren’t throwing up or pointing and laughing and though I might be somewhat plain, I’m funny and that makes up for a lot.

But today, for the second time since Friday, I was oogled, ogled… see, it happens so infrequently to me that I don’t even know how to spell it. The UPS guy looked me up and down and gave me a salacious grin.

Well, straight men and gay women, salace away! Oogle me. Ogle me. Do like the tall lanky old man in Walgreens on Saturday and waltz me once around the floor. Go ahead and hug me and tickle me like the other guy on Saturday night. See me standing at a restaurant waiting for a friend and smile broadly at me until I look over.

I don’t know what the deal is, especially considering that I have a weird patch of dry skin on my eyelid, but I’ll take it.