For your nice comments/e-mails regarding last night’s train-wreck post. Here’s the saddest part: I only had one tissue left in the box in my bedroom and I was too lazy/petulant to get up out of bed and get toilet paper or something else to cry into, so I had one little tissue to mop up my tears. Sigh. Tragedy never is pretty.

But, speaking of pretty (one of my favorite topics), I spent a good 30 minutes tonight trying to decide what to wear to a concert I’m going to tomorrow night. Mind you, it’s the Tim McGraw/Faith Hill concert and no matter what I wear, I won’t look like I belong. So I decided to go for ok-I-look-cute-but-I’m-not-trying-too-hard/I’m-really-just-wearing-this-for-me. That translates into dark jeans, black sandals and a tan top with a brown/green print, brown lace and some sparklies. Far more charming than it sounds. Shiny, sparkly things always make things better.

And speaking of making things better (like my lazy transitions?), my moods have been all over the place this week. I’m blaming PMS, the weather (steamy and rainy), work and just general stress. Like, at lunch time today I was quite pissy, but tonight, I was fine. I think I really fucked things up two months ago when I took back-to-back packs of birth-control pills. This will most likely be a shock for Ryan, but I didn’t have a period last month. The few friends I confided in assured me that, yes, I most likely had fucked things up by taking back-to-back packs of birth-control pills. I didn’t worry too much about it, although the thought of being knocked up made me want to vomit.

Anyway, this is “the” week and I didn’t want to spend every waking hour obsessing over things, so I bought a pregnancy test tonight. I was proud of myself, just bought that, didn’t try to “cover” the purchase with a dozen other assorted items. Thankfully, only one line popped up — and almost immediately too — and after a long two minutes, I assured myself I was indeed without a bun in the over.

My mom has started sending me job postings — in Michigan. I think my parents want me to move back home. Well, not home-home, as I’d die if I had to live in my old bedroom (with my cats, no less). But near them. I’ve thought about it, and that also makes me want to vomit. Realistically, I could do my job remotely — but, realistically, I would die of boredom and loneliness if I worked out of my home. I still can’t bring myself to be a “Hoosier,” but Michigan is starting to feel less and less like “home.” I’ve lived here for nearly 8 years.

Wow, I’m just sounding like a lost little punkin’, aren’t I? Ah, I do enjoy my soul-searching phases. Makes me feel less guilty about the self-centered phases, the semi-hedonistic phases, the I-want-a-day-all-by-myself phases …

*Yes, I know I could have just told Ryan about my little situation. But passive communication always is more fun. ; )

∗ Posted by Monique on 07.11.2006
∗ My life