Bitching, Musing, Moving

Traffic
What the fuck is up with you, Dallas? I know you've always sucked when it comes to my commute, and I know it isn't your fault that I have to drive 37 miles, but seriously, what is going on? Twice in the last week (going back to late last week), it has taken me a minimum of two hours to get to the office. On Monday it was due to an accident that had closed all lanes of traffic on I-30 West. It was in an area west of my exit but I had to deal with the fall out. Last week (Friday? Thursday?) it was because of fucking rubber neckers. I don't care how many people want to tell me that rubber neckers are absurd everywhere; the ones in the Dallas area (specifically around the mix master) are the absolute worst I've ever come across. Even today it took me just shy of 90 minutes to make it in, and that felt a bit like a triumph.

Yes, I know I should leave earlier but it is hard when your boyfriend won't leave you alone. Or when it is cold in his room and oh so cozy in the bed. Or you rail against the idea of going to be promptly at 10:00 PM to go to sleep and not play when you are not a child and damn it, all you seem to do is drive to work, work, drive home, maybe do some chores, and then go to bed. But I guess I'll have to strap on my big girl panties (and perhaps a chastity belt) and just suck it up and start turning in earlier, with the help of some melotonin, in an effort to get out of the house earlier. Unfortunately, that won't help the commute home, especially if I have a 3PM meeting, as I do today. Grimace (the face, not the purple milk shake McDonald's character.

Oh, and why has KERA stopped with the traffic reports? Did they not raise enough in the last fundrive to keep Bruce Gunn on the payroll?

Things that Tickle Me or Irritate Me

• Irritate: The Affordable Health Care Act, especially regarding the government website. I get it. People were inconvenienced. Maybe trying to have millions of people (or however many) sign up for insurance on line wasn't the brightest idea. But calm the fuck down people. Websites crash and go down all the time and no one calls for blood. I haven't been to the website but I'm assuming it isn't some typepad template or anything. A lot of work goes into those things and even the best analysis will often leave things out. So yes, it sucked, it was inconvenient, and people grumbled. Can we be done talking about it? 
• Tickle: Any time the Russian Punk Band (I believe they are Russian, almost certain) Pussy Riot does something to make national headlines. Because I like to hear really professional sounding newscasters say "Pussy Riot". Heh. 
• Irritate: Being volunteered for shit, especially if it includes driving. I'm looking at the Bat on this one. I took his kid and her friend to get their nails done on Sunday as a Christmas present and he said "and then you'll take them to their Drill Team party." I believe I said things like "I hate this family" and "it's because at my age single guys either have or want kids." You know, I was gracious. Later in the evening I told him it was disrespectful to volunteer my time/services and to just ask. I might grumble but I'll probably do it. It wouldn't have bugged me as much if he hadn't done this before and if he didn't know exactly how much I fucking hate driving. He said "OK."
• Tickle: Read my Facebook status that says something like "2 hour commute this morning, 3PM meeting this afternoon, which means a long commute home. No wine in the house and all I want is a hot bath and some wine" and then, when I get out of said bath, be found washing my wine glass and opening a bottle of white that you ran out to purchase after I said "I'm taking a bath" and stomped out of the room. Once again, I'm looking at the Bat, who did this for me on Monday. I'd apologized for being all stompy and explained that it was just because I was in one of those moods where I shouldn't be around people. He said he totally understood but thought he'd run out and get some beer and me a bottle of wine (two actually) anyway. 

Other News

It has been three months, exactly, since the Bat and I started dating. I've given my 60 days notice to my apartment complex and over the next two months will be moving into the Bat Cave officially. The Bat and I have to write up a rental agreement and I have to move stuff (blergh) but yep. I know, seems fast, doesn't it? Maybe this is when he'll murder me in my sleep after the Monkey accidentally slips and tells me that she was kidnapped by him four years ago from a woman he dated and killed, disposing of her body in the garden in the backyard. Or maybe he'll steal my identity and buy all the luxurious fancy items he covets like a doggy door or tiller wheels. Or maybe I'll find out that his family has a tradition of every male sharing the women and I'll be expected to take part in some weird, slightly incestuous feeling orgy with his brothers, cousins, uncles, and father. God, I hope not. And Christmas is right around the corner, which means family get together so I think I'll def have to skip that, as planned. 

I don't think those things will happen though. I think, instead, things will carry on much as they are only I'll have all my shit in one place without having a very expensive storage unit in Mesquite that I visit on the reg. But if there is any subtle suggestion of an orgy, I'll write to my leasing office and let them know that I changed my mind and that I actually do like them better than the boyfriend. 

I Can Really Spiral When Making Excuses

I worked from home today because I was up later than I thought I'd be on a conference call last night. I don't know why I have to tell you why I worked from home but there you go.

Home is, of course, the Bat Cave these days and yes, it's preferable over my place because, if for no other reason, the Bat always has food available. So far I've eaten five cheese slices and a remnant of a cookie. Because anything else would have taken effort and I only just now remembered that I think there is a yogurt or two left over. Even then I'd have to lift off the lid and possibly stir the fucker so that wouldn't have flown well either.

But the Bat Cave is fucking freezing at all times. Unless there is a fire going and you are sitting in front of it. But there is no more firewood (I don't think... the Bat is going with Phoenix to find some tomorrow) and even if there was firewood, the Bat isn't here to make me a fire. I think I can make one myself these days, but he does a far better job. And I don't have to get dirty hauling in the wood. So I'm cold. And lonely. And bored. Which is why I don't work from home too often (or try not to unless I'm sick like I was for the entire month of November). So I did what any girl in my situation would do and I harassed my boyfriend via text.

ME: "I'm bored and lonely. I'd make a terrible housewife."

BAT: "Poor baby."

ME: "Yes, I require sympathy, cuddles, attention, and petting. Tell work you have a pet emergency so you can leave early?"

BAT: " Lol. Yeah right."

ME: "Stupid work."

ME: "It's been 20 minutes. Did you get a more reasonable employer who will let you leave early?"

----intermission to discuss a video he posted on my facebook about the differences between porn sex and real sex and our mutual gratitude that we have pretty great sex----

ME: "We should buy good scotch. Because I can't get warm."

BAT: "Be my guest."

ME: "I'm not driving any more today. Almost got into an accident on my way home. I need my big strong man to protect me and ferry me around."

ME: "Also, I am super cute today. If I go out alone, men might make advances."

ME: "Then you'd have to explain to Monkey that I was gone because I was super cute and had been whisked away by another single father."

ME: "And she might know the guy's kid and sleepovers would be weird."

BAT: "Lol. Right. Get you a 3 minute man."

ME: "Are you saying that's all I'm cute enough to get (insert angry emoticon face)?"

BAT: "No. But apparently that's the norm and most aren't as skilled or experienced as me."

ME: "But surely I'll attract more men like you. they can scent it out, my own awesome skills."

He hasn't responded so I'm pretty sure he is racing home for fear that I'll go out on my own to buy scotch or seven snuggies and be whisked off my feet by a handsome, sexually advanced man. 

Thirty Three

This past Friday I powered through the worst ice of the century to get to the airport. In Texas, an inch of ice puts cities on shut down and people freak out. I get it though; they don't have this happen often so they don't have resources available and so the roads are going to suck more (and for longer) and people are going to panic. Thanks Obama.

Anywho, I went to the airport to fly to Arizona where I spent my birthday weekend with my lovely mother, who spoiled me rotten. I've discovered something strange about me - I do not like to talk about my vacations. Any time I go to Arizona, people want to know all about it but I just don't feel like talking about it. And I have no idea why that is. I enjoyed myself, had fun with my mother as usual, got some great gifts, had a fun party, and suffered my usual travel anxiety. Even when I write about it in my paper journal, it's pretty obligatory. I don't think this is a very nice part of my personality because it feels kind of bitchy.

I don't know why I do that. Part of me really does think "why do you care?" but that's just because I'm a jerk. And it isn't like it's some giant secret. Honestly, I think I'm just lazy about it. It happened, I had fun, it's over, let's move on, shall we? But, in the spirit of not being a lazy asshole, I'll try to talk about

My Trip to Arizona 2013
After kicking my door a few times in order to get it open, I turned on my car to let it defrost. I then scraped the shit out of my windows. It took at least 40 minutes and I didn't have side mirrors but meh, what are you going to do? It took me about an hour to get to the airport because parts of the roads were messed up and I was driving in a low gear and we were all going slow. Props to the Bat for telling me about driving in low gear. He couldn't take me because he'd fucked his back up at work that morning. Whilst I was being feted all weekend, that poor sod was stuck on the couch enjoying the effects of muscle relaxants. Anyhow, I got to the airport and then I got on a plane and got to Arizona where I was picked up by my mother. I was exhausted but she made me open two of my presents when we got to her house. One was a a wood carving of a buffalo that she picked up in Alaska. I loved it and have since named him Benjamin. But she said "Oh, that isn't a good one, open another one." So I picked one up and asked if it was a good one and she said "yes" so I opened it. Woman bought me a freaking iPad. No, I don't know if it is the new one and no, it isn't the iPad air or whatever. But it is a mother fucking iPad. Pretty nifty. Then she let me go to bed.

On Saturday morning, the moms and I had coffee and croissants. This is how spoiled I am (if an iPad were not enough evidence): two days before I left for Phoenix, I asked my mom if she could make sure we had good coffee and croissants available. She asked what kind of coffee and actually went out to buy it. She accidentally got whole bean but whatev. The point is, she made sure we had coffee and croissants for breakfast.

My mom is a "frequent flyer" at the casinos (her words) so she gets a lot of comped stuff. When she found a cheap flight for my birthday (I paid for my flight, lest you think I'm that spoiled), she told her casino hostess about it and said hostess said that if I came out she'd comp us spa treatments and dinner at the schmancy restaurant. Oh, and a free room. So after breakfast we drove to one casino so that I could meet the lovely woman, and then we went to Wild Horse Pass for our spa appointments. The spa was totally schmancy, with a coed waiting area and a women only waiting area, plush robes, and comfortable furniture. We waited in the coed room because it was warmer and I took full advantage, laying out on a chaise lounge under a blanket until Dana, my spa tech, came to get me for my pedicure. She was great and I had her in stitches telling her about how the bitch flight attendant tried to not let me go to the bathroom. "I'm going to pee. I can do it in my seat or I can do it in the bathroom." So yay spa!

After the spa, moms and I drove to the casino where we would be staying, had a few drinks, played the penny slots, and eventually had dinner. Filet mignon, really, really good asparagus (seriously, the entire time I was just amazed by the asparagus), and truffle fries. We ordered the truffle fries because we'd never had them and I think we both thought they'd be made out of truffles. Nope. You just use truffle oil. They were good but they were essentially just good fries. For my pre dinner drink, I ordered a Three Wise Men as suggested to me by the Bat. The waiter brought me the shot and a glass of ice because I think he was concerned about my taking a shot of Jim Beam, Johnny Walker, and Jose Quervo. So I had it over the rocks and it was surprisingly good. I don't know why the Bat suggested it but it seemed fitting for the season. My mom thought it was because we were celebrating my 33rd birthday and Jesus died at the age of 33 or something.

You know, maybe this is why I don't like talking about my vacations. I am really, really bad at it and don't do them justice. But whatev. We gambled more and I left my mom at 9:15 because I was exhausted. She came up at 11:30; like I said, she is a frequent flier.

Sunday was chill. We got our finger nails done, I opened more presents, and I took a nap. Because I'm exciting like that. My party was that night so a few people that I know came over with an ice cream cake and some dollar store gifts (cause I harped on my friend Kara for not getting my anything). It was swell, I had people take ridiculous pictures of me, and then called it a night. On Monday I had a lovely lunch with my lovely mother, got really frustrated with packing, and flew home. The end.

The flight actually sucked. My first flight was delayed by 30 minutes and my second one was delayed by 80 or so. I was really scared I was going to get stuck in Albuquerque but I did not and landed at about midnight. I was dead tired on my drive home but I made it, went into the house, threw all of my shit into the closet, and climbed into bed. The Bat was asleep but reached over to pat me and, as he later told me, thought "OK, good, she's home".

So there you have it. I had taken Tuesday off, which was smart of me, and I slept until 11. Then I was just bored out my mind so did some laundry and cleaned the refrigerator. There wasn't much food so I drove to Target and was surprised at first by the bare shelves. Then I remembered "oh, right, Icemaggedon". Went home, made a sandwich, chatted with Monkey, and then watched movies with the Bat before going to bed. Again, I'm an exciting girl.

This morning I woke up ridiculously early and, as I drove to work, had to stop at my place because I felt nauseous. I actually threw up, which is something I only do when I have food poisoning, so it was weird. I'm pretty sure it was the juice I'd made that morning. So I threw up and slept for a few hours and then drove to work (and no, there is not a chance in Hell of my being pregnant or else the Bat has lied to me), which is where I am now, with nothing to do. That should change soon but for the moment, I'm just bored and catching up on my snark site and hate reads.

All in all, I had a phenomenal birthday and I'm a happy girl. I decided that yes, I am happy. The Bat reminded me that I need to live in the moment more and not worry about what may happen down the road. I have trouble with that and think it is tied to my anxiety. Fortunately, they make pills for that and I always have them with me. So I'm trying to enjoy the moments and just accept that I am, indeed, happy. I've been happy in myself for quite some time now but I'm not used to being happy in a healthy relationship. And the Bat is nice to me and never says things to make me feel bad about who I am (he likes the way I speak and doesn't make me feel weird for the words I use). I need to stop waiting/assuming he's going to change and just take things as they are. Maybe we stay together for a long time. Maybe we don't. What's happening now is what matters and right now I'm happy and want to make him happy. I enjoy spending time with him and talking to his kid. I like snuggling on the sofa and watching movies and going to the sushi bar. I like having my routines and contributing to the household and all that grown up shit.

I'm happy and I'm just going to accept that. And I'm pretty sure 33 is going to be a kick ass year.

In Which I Whine and Talk about Soda (in the reverse order)

Soda Pop
I'm starting to wonder if I'm really weird about soda or if I'm just some kind of traditionalist about it. Upstairs Kid really likes root beer and that is his go to soda. Here in Texas, Dr. Pepper is a big deal. My boss used to drink a ton of Diet Mountain Dew. All of that is extremely strange to me because they seem like weird choices. Root beer? Really? And Mountain Dew? Yeah, they are fine every so often but your favorite is either Coke or Pepsi (and if you are a decent human being you are on Team Coke). That's how I think for some reason and I wonder if it is because I grew up in a Coke and Pepsi household or if it is because I consider those the standard, traditional sodas.

I thought about this on my way into work this morning because the Bat has Pepsi and Sierra Mist in his refrigerator at the moment. They don't generally have soda but there was some deal when we ordered pizza the other day and those were the types the Bat chose with the idea of using the SM as a mixer. I used some of the Pepsi this morning to take my pills and thought "hmm, I haven't had Pepsi in ages". So when I stopped for gas on my way into the office, I picked myself up a Diet Pepsi and a Coke Zero. Cause, you know, I was thinking of my long ass commute (which sucked heartily) and figured I would be entertained by a mini soda battle in my car. Yes, that is how I think and right now I am imagining a break dance battle between the bottles. Because I am fucking insane.

Happy Happy Joy Poll-oi 
Lately I've been trying to figure out if I'm happy or not. That's as insane as my soda fights isn't it? I'm just not sure. Some days I'm in a great mood and I feel like I've finally reached a place in my life where everything fits. I had a great Thanksgiving and "holiday" weekend, filled with great people and lots of activities (I chopped up some firewood with an ax! I changed the Bat's oil!) but sometimes I think I'm less happy than I am trying to be happy, that I'm settling.

I'm pretty miserable at work. I have to fight to get assignments and when my boss finally takes notice of me, she gives me feedback, which is awesome, but which also makes me out to be incompetent. I get told half the story and then get scolded for not understanding everything because no one told me the other half. And I mostly spend my days trying to find something to do, studying from a website I found, or surfing the internet. That's a long eight hours and not worth my commute at all. The last time I got an email filled with feedback about something, I ended up bursting into tears, hiding in the Bat's bathroom so no one would see me. I sat on the bathtub ledge thing and just cried and thought "I should never have moved to Texas". Not because I miss my old job, but because I seem to be floundering so badly at my new one.

I have a meeting with my boss today and I'm going to be a big girl for once and remember that I'm an adult, not a child. I get treated like a child a lot even though I'll be 33 soon. I think it has to do with how I look and sound. It works in my favor usually, but I need to start being a grown up at work so I'm going to put on my big girl panties, pop a Klonopin, and go for it.

Am I happy in my relationship with the Bat? I think so. He's nice and funny and I like being around him and the Monkey. I've somehow managed to work my way into their lives from the word go and I do weird things like take care of the laundry, clean the bathroom, clean the kitchen, make sure there are going to be plenty of clean towels because I'll be away this weekend. Not that they couldn't survive without my doing that but because it's nice to not have to worry about it, especially when you've gotten used to someone doing the laundry for you. Tuesday nights are movie nights and Wednesday nights are frequently Sushi Bar Happy Hour nights. I change the sheets and help with the groceries. The Bat teaches me new things and makes fires in the fireplace on cold nights.

There's a routine in place and we all seem pretty happy with each other. But I'm realizing more and more that I don't feel secure. Remember how I said that the Bat started to say nice things to me from time to time because I told him girls like that sort of thing? He still does and it sounds a bit less obligatory lately (because he no longer says "Oh, by the way..." like his phone just buzzed with a reminder alarm) but he has a habit of ending the nice things with "for now" or "at this point in my life." He does the "for now" thing other times as well. I asked him if he was OK with the amount of stuff I have at his house and he said "yes... for now". So I never really relax and just keep quiet and wonder how long "for now" will last. He also makes it clear that the only things that he cares about are himself and his daughter. That sounds REALLY awful and I don't mean it like that. He cares about me in his way and he's awesome to his family but his investment is in himself and his kid. Side note: it is rad as fuck how much he cares for his daughter.

But it feels pretty shitty because I don't want a temporary relationship where I feel like some sort of sitcom visitor. When you sign up at the dating site I used, you are asked specifically what you are looking for on top of all the shit you have to write about yourself. I specifically said long term and that I want someone to share my life with and to share his life.

Not for the time being. Not for a few months. I know things might not last forever with one person (obviously) but I don't want to constantly think about the end or be reminded that things are going to end. I'd rather be optimistic and make plans for the future. Not "let's get married and buy a house" plans but things like "maybe in the Spring we can plant x, y, z in the garden". I want to see the Monkey develop as she moves on from being a Freshman to a Sophomore. Instead, I've organized all the crap I have at his house into one area as much as possible so that when he tells me to go kick rocks because he's done or because something better has come along, it will be easier for me to take it all home. I keep fighting with the idea that maybe I should take my stuff home and stay at his place less just to keep myself from getting hurt.

So am I happy in my relationship? Yes, I'm just not secure. It's an incredibly weird feeling and I'm trying to let it go and just live in the moment and all that bullshit but it's uncomfortable for anyone when they are faced with so foreign an attitude, if that makes any sense.

End on a High
Well, that got long and rambly, didn't it? That's what happens (when bodies start slappin') when I put off thinking about things and writing in my journal and then log into this here blog. But let's end on a happy note, shall we? Yesterday I emailed my mother the following:

Yesterday I ate a bunch of green beans. I almost died. I may eat more vegetables between now and Sunday. I would hate to die without knowing what you got me for my birthday. You should tell me (the honest answer; Jesus will know if you are lying and lies make the baby Jesus cry) so that I don't risk dying with any regrets.

It's true, I did eat green beans. The Bat made dinner (proper grown up dinner with chicken and potatoes and green beans) and I ate a bunch of the green stuff because I knew I should. I didn't almost die though, that was a lie (I don't believe in Jesus so his tears are meaningless to me). But my mom is no fun and this was her reply:

DOESN’T WORK STOP IT

Sigh. Looks like I'll be opening my birthday presents on my actual birthday - without knowing in advance what they are - for the first time in roughly nine years. Woe is fucking me.  Now let's break out of this funk and fucking do this day shall we?