October 1st, 2008. That’s when it started. I drove to work, walked into my office, sat down at my desk, booted up my computer and as soon as my fingers touched the keyboard, I began to sob. And from that point forward, I sobbed every day for a year. From October 1st, 2008 to October, 2nd 2009, I sobbed. For one entire year. Every single day.
At the time, I didn’t know why I sobbed. I just sobbed, and it wouldn’t stop. It was like vomiting out the emotion of a thousand years, and I was surprised I had that much in me. I didn’t like it. I wanted it to stop.
I woke up alone.
On Christmas morning 2014 I woke up alone for the very first time in my entire life.
But I wasn’t sad about it.
The stockings were full. The candy was out. The gifts were under the tree. I even left the Christmas tree lights on overnight. Like I always do. But this time I took my Christmas Eve sleep to the couch, right next to the Christmas tree. That year, I needed to sleep beside Christmas.
I needed to wake up beside Christmas – my first Christmas morning alone.
I’m pretty much fucked. That’s my considered opinion. Fucked.
Okay. Those aren’t my words. I just read them in this book, The Martian. But still that’s how I feel. Moreover, I just started that novel, but, now, I don’t even know if I’ll ever be able to finish it. My phone is almost dead. My book is on my phone. I even had to delete that book app, and pretty soon I could be stuck in the mucking fother boondocks, shoulder deep in mud. No food. No water. No Google. No book. I very well may be doomed. Just like that guy in that novel who was left alone there on Mars for a while.
Well, maybe not that bad. But pretty close.
Call me Samantha.
Or if you’re much younger than me, you may call me Sabrina, if you wish.
But, please. Just don’t call me witch.
Since I was a little girl, I’ve been interested in the paranormal.
Because – weird things just happen to me.
I just had a blonde moment.
Well, the blonde moment occurred not less than 4 hours ago. I just discovered it.
To me, she isn’t pretty.
Just last week my niece asked two of us sitting at the dinner table to share our blonde moments and our brunette moments with her for the week. She then would share hers.
I have three rules for Facebook.
Thou shalt not, including but not limited to, post, share, expose, like, agree, oppose, expound on, spew, or contribute to anything Political.
Thou shalt not, including but not limited to, post, share, expose, like, agree, oppose, expound on, spew, or contribute to anything Religion.
Thou shalt not, including but not limited to, post, share, expose, like, agree, oppose, expound on, spew or contribute to anything Negative.
SATURDAY I PARTIED WITH “THE KIDS!” – THE END.
Just kidding! About the “-The End” part, I mean.
For purposes of this story, I’m referring to, specifically, “The Kids” ages 21 to 29 years. The untamed. The energetic. The romantically idealistic ones – sprinkled with just a bit of cynicism and barely crumbs of fear.
Oh…Just, basically, the ones who drink a lot of beer and can buy it for themselves.
Just so we’re clear.
There’s really not much to read here.
But, wait, don’t go yet!
It’s just that I can’t write. Yep! This week and last week, actually.
Yeah…well… my hands are sore, my computer is slow and now my ergonomically correct wireless keyboard and mouse aren’t working. Yes, I did change the batteries.
But that’s not why.
It’s my brain.
I’m scared! No, seriously!!!
I’m really really a-scared to go to another Meetup. After my first.
Well, maybe I overstated that a bit. Let me put it this way, it’s been 3 months since the first and I still can’t bring myself to sign up for a second.
My girlfriend, she’s not scared. She’s already decided. “Not for me!”
The sole purpose for our first? To Meet Men.
Honestly. I don’t know that there is anything funny that comes out of assembling a piece of Ikea furniture.
The first time I ever put a piece of Ikea furniture together was years ago at a law firm where I worked. I was somewhere in my stupid-old 20’s. It was a small firm. A very, very small firm. My title? Jack-of-all-Trades. Apparently.