Moving, Cheese

I am writing this post from my my new-to-me couch in my newly rented house. Wait, make that our couch and our house. My fiancĂ© is in the next room right now, working, because he lives here, too. It is grand, I tell you! In spite of a few hurdles along the way, we successfully made the move and we’re partly settled in, with many things still left to unpack and organize.

On moving day, we had the help of a small crew of friends who wound up becoming absolute life savers after our U-Haul truck broke down. Can you believe we had to get the fully loaded truck towed from my old apartment to the new house, just over a mile away? It was quite an experience. There was… some unladylike language.

We had loaded every last item onto the truck after stopping first at CW’s place and then at mine (with a detour along the way to get B’s old couch which she gave to us). It felt like such a relief to see that everything fit perfectly — we had chosen just the right size truck and packed it exactly right. And then we had to call U-Haul to send out a repair guy. The parking brake seemed to be stuck on, unable to be released. An ear-splitting alarm sounded when we tried to put the truck in drive (meant, I’m sure, to prevent drivers from pulling out with the parking brake still engaged) and it smelled like burning plastic.

Not a great picture.

The repair guy couldn’t do anything to fix the truck. We were so afraid we’d have to unload everything and reload it onto a second truck — and we were so close to being done! But then U-Haul sent out a tow truck. He found he couldn’t tow it in the normal way (front wheels up, back wheels down) because the back wheels were completely locked up and wouldn’t turn. No problem. He re-attached to the back end of the truck instead and towed it in backwards. From realizing the truck was broken down to actually getting it in motion again, I think it took 2-3 hours.

Attempt Two: circumnavigating the stuck back wheels.

If you ever want to make a grand entrance into your new neighborhood — something for the new neighbors to really notice and remember — may I recommend pulling up with a giant tow truck towing an even bigger U-Haul truck, backwards, in front of your new house? It’s a really good way to announce your presence with authority.

We were stressed out and exhausted, but our friends B. and M. came through and helped us get every last piece of furniture off that truck and into our new house. This included, but was not limited to: two beds, four dressers, a couch, two futons, a dining table, several bookcases, several small tables, and a washer and dryer. My fitbit tells me I walked almost 8 miles worth of steps that day. most of these steps took place in driveways. We were exhausted. Luckily, there was beer.

Sweet sweet reward.

Now we are working on setting up and settling in. The pets are getting adjusted and pieces of furniture are slowly but surely finding their new spots. For me, it still feels a little like a vacation instead of a permanent move. I’m all, “This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife!” But it is. I think I will feel really at home once we finally have all our books on the shelves, our desks set up, and our dressers organized. Soon, soon. I’ll share some more pictures down the line, but for now, here are some views of the empty spaces:


I love our new house. It’s interesting, too, the little negotiations and adjustments we have to make now that we live together. I haven’t lived with anyone else since my college roommate Mel, from 1996-2000. We had our own rhythm going after four years of living together, for sure, but even then there were still little moments. You ate my cheese? That I was SAVING?! OMG, I was SAVING that CHEESE. Everyone who has ever had a roommate knows this routine, I’m sure. But 13 years after we finished college (13 years?! HOW have 13 years gone by??), we are still friends, and in fact she is going to be in my wedding. She can have all the cheese she wants; I will even save her some. So everything obviously worked out well.

Today, I still don’t like for anyone to eat the last of my proverbial cheese, but CW knows that. Ask him sometime to describe the flaming daggers that shot out of my eyes the time I was saving a peanut butter cup and he ate it. In his defense, he 1) didn’t know I was saving it, and 2) is a normal human without any disordered food issues, so had no way of knowing this would be A Thing. I think I almost set him on fire with my eyes, the poor guy. Anyway, I think as long as I remember to turn out the lights I’m not using, and he doesn’t freeze me out with the air conditioner, we are going to be just fine.

You Have Got to be Kidding Me, People.

Moving week is here! Well, except that it isn’t here at all, in fact, and no one has seen it. WHERE IS MOVING WEEK? We were supposed to pick up our keys to the new house today, only when CW went by the office to do so, he found out that the family living there hadn’t dropped the keys off yet. It’s unclear whether they’re still in the house or not. They were supposed to move out on the 9th (nearly a week ago). Um, WHAT?!

Apparently the rental company folks don’t really know what’s going on, and it seems to have escaped their notice that the family hadn’t turned the keys in. We’re supposed to check back tomorrow and see what’s up. Sure. I find it not at all comforting that one of the people in the office reportedly told CW that “maybe they could get us in there by Wednesday,” and the other said “maybe by Friday.”


So anyway, this afternoon was supposed to be spent checking out the new place and taking over a carload of smaller items. I even had the happy and lighthearted idea to bring over some beer and wine and snacks so we could celebrate (and stock the fridge for the next few hot afternoons of hauling boxes). Instead, I spent my afternoon fretting and continuing to pack. Only one of those activities was useful.

A Crappy Day Present from @BindsTheTuna and a gin and club soda with lots of lime have somewhat eased my pain, I suppose.

But, I mean, you guys, what is GOING ON? Why haven’t these people moved out? Or, did they move out and forget to hand back the keys? When they DO move out, if such a thing can be imposed upon them (PLEASE), how long will the between-tenant cleaning and painting take? What if we miss our scheduled moving-truck day on Saturday? We have to be out of our apartments by the following Tuesday and I have to work! I cannot take a day off for make-up moving day! And I cannot overstay my current lease!* CUE ANXIETY AND IMPOTENT ANGER.

*See, I cannot overstay my current lease, because I am not an inconsiderate douchenozzle. I would not DO THAT. That is not just a THING that someone DOES.

Well, thank you for letting me get that off my chest. I would’ve tweeted the whole damn story, complete with accompanying panicked questions and rants, but I am under a self-imposed constraint today requiring that I exclude the letter E from all my tweets. (Why? Because I taught this book in class today and wanted to try something like it myself, for the sheer love of linguistic gamesmanship. I have only messed up once so far.) When a person is stressed and angry, composing 140-character bursts while excluding the English language’s most commonly used letter is not soothing; it is infuriating. For example:

“I can’t get obtain the keys “unlocking things” for the our new house habitat today because as the old tenants renters residents dwellers inhabitants are late tardy moving out. Damned Damn lipogram for fuck’s sake sack!”





In the Air

A moment ago I had to stick my hand down the garbage disposal. Does that make you anxious, just reading that? It would make me anxious. I will just go ahead and tell you right now that it was fine and nothing bad happened. I did not accidentally bump the on switch while my hand was down there; the cat did not choose that exact moment to jump up on the counter and bump the switch as retribution for my feeding her diet cat food for the last ten years; the disposal did not spontaneously come to life of its own accord; there were no short circuits; no poltergeists were involved. Everything was fine. Mostly.

The reason my hand was down there in the first place: I had dropped a plastic toothpick in the sink and it slid directly down the disposal drain without wasting any time — unlike any food I have ever put in there, which always takes several nervous nudges of encouragement to get past the black plastic guard. Because of course it does. Anyway, I stood there thinking, what would happen if I just left it? Would the disposal be able to handle a plastic toothpick? Or would it wreck everything and I’d have to call maintenance and wind up getting charged for a new garbage disposal four months before I move out? Probably that.

So I braced myself and inserted my hand and it was the most horrible feeling ever in all of human existence. Even assuming nothing terrible happens, sticking your hand down the disposal is just plain awful. Slimy. Dark. Mysterious. Dangerous. Sharp-ish. Deeply disturbing. Feel free to psychoanalyze me for my fear of penetrating a slimy dark hole with one of my appendages. I don’t like it and I’m not ashamed.

But at least I removed the toothpick, right? False. I did not. I could not find the toothpick and after a few moments of feeling around in the slimy, dark, mysterious, dangerous, sharp-ish, deeply disturbing HOLE, I gave up. The toothpick is still at large.

While I’m on the subject of unpleasant physical sensations, do you know what I really despise lately? Wind. Not only big, gale-force winds that are rough or dangerous, but also just your average breeze. Gentle breezes, even. I will not ride in a car with the windows down or use a ceiling fan. I even despise the feeling of air blowing on me from an air conditioner. I hate drafts. I know; I think I might be nuts, too.

Wind in particular has just been infuriating the last couple of months. Every run, I feel like I am running directly into the wind, and it is buffeting me and pushing me around on the sidewalk and whipping my ponytail around so that it tangles and tugs against my head. Worst of all, it seems to blow directly into my nose and mouth, making it feel impossible to breathe. There’s too MUCH air! Then when I come to a corner and turn 90 degrees, I get a moment’s relief. The contrast between running into the wind and running at an angle to it is so startling, I begin to feel alive again and everything is wonderful, until the wind follows me around the corner (I think sometimes it is STALKING me) and makes me miserable all over again.

The wind stalks and harasses me on campus, too. A full, lightweight, knee-length skirt on a breezy spring day? I may as well flash the entire university community. If I want the color of my drawers to remain private information, I have to walk with my hands held down at my sides, pinning my skirt to my legs. The wind blinds me by blowing my bangs over my eyes, tugs my headphones out of my ears, and blows my umbrella inside out. I would need seven hands to walk through the wind while managing my skirt, my hair, my ear buds, and my umbrella. Walking across campus in the wind is like being constantly poked by a small child or barked at by a dog.

This afternoon I was sitting in someone else’s campus office having a chat. The window and the door were both open, creating an avenue for air to blow in from outside, through the door, and into the hallway. I was right in the wind’s path of destruction yet again. As I sat there, I could barely concentrate on our conversation. My clothes were blowing against my skin and tickling me; my hair was blowing into my eyes and mouth, just one hair at a time, just enough to have me swatting at my own face every four seconds. Each little individual arm hair was gently blowing across its neighboring arm hairs and tweaking them as it went, leaving me with the feeling of hundreds of tiny ants crawling all over my forearms.

Even as I write this, wind is making me miserable. We’ve got a raging thunderstorm blowing across the state, complete with a tornado watch for my county. The internet has been out all afternoon and evening. Obviously, my primary hope is that no tornadoes materialize and no one is hurt, but, you know, I also want my internet back.

While I wait for the good folks at Ch@rt3r to get us all reconnected, I’m thinking back to that moment when the plastic toothpick slid into the garbage disposal drain, prompting my disturbing hand-in-hole ordeal. How did that happen, exactly? Was that a slight breeze I recall?

Holiday Preparations, An Email Digression, A Call for Assvice

Oh y’all. It is finals week here, which means that things are simultaneously wonderful and horrible. I am so, so close to being done and to starting my holiday break, and yet I am still so, so far from that.

[333/366] Wine Glass

I’ve created the final exams for two of my three courses, but I still need to write one more. Once I give the exams, I’ll have 140 of them to grade before determining final semester averages and such. It is a lot left to do, and yet it isn’t. The only really stressful factor is dealing with the steady stream of emails from students who are fretting about the exam and/or worried about their other grades — as is only natural, of course.

A little digression, if you don’t mind: Email existed when I was an undergrad (ca. 1996-2000), but back then most of my professors didn’t use it. I had an account I accessed via VMS (anyone remember VMS?), used mainly to write to my friends at faraway schools and my boyfriend back in my hometown. I did not ever email my professors. I often wonder what I would have been like as a student if email use had been more widespread on my campus back then. Would it have replaced the regular sit-down meetings I had with my adviser every semester, when I had to get his signature on my registration card before I would be allowed to stand in the hours-long queue and wait, hoping to get into my desired classes? Would I have developed the same close relationships with my professors over email exchanges as I did by sitting down with them in their offices — and occasionally smoking cigarettes with them (!)? I don’t know; what was it like when you were in school?

At any rate, there’s no use longing for the old days. I’ve got emails to answer and that’s just how it is.

Extra Branches

On another note, this time next week, I will be done with fall semester and ready to sit on my duff until early 2013. Ahh, I can hardly wait! I have been working so hard this semester, and it’s all been good (interesting, challenging, both new and familiar) work, but I’m ready for time off. Winter break is my favorite time of year. I love the holiday season; winter weather is my favorite; everything about it is tops!

I’ve already put the holidays in action in my place. I love white lights and snowflakes and I love to have a tree. Here’s what I’ve got going at the moment:

Snowflake Garland
Snowflake Garland
Falling Flakes.Tree
Another Ornament Self-Portrait

Now, once I get through finals week, I’ll really be able to soak it up. Flannel fir tree pajama pants, flannel snowflake sheets (a dangerous flannel-on-flannel combo at times), Silk nog spiked with bourbon, holiday treats, Christmas movies, Pandora’s Jazzy Holiday station (try it!). I’ve also got my birthday to look forward to (the big 3-5) and a trip up to Iowa to enjoy some cold weather and hopefully some snow and, oh yeah, also to meet my boyfriend’s parents. ‘Twill be fabulous. As long as I can avoid making a fool of myself.

Really, though: any tips? Etiquette tips? Like for when you’re going to be staying with your significant other’s family for a week at Christmas time and you’ve never met them before? I welcome your assvice people, and that is a rare occasion, as I do not normally suffer assvice kindly. Hit me.

For now, pie, I am asking you to hold off patiently.

Grey and Drippy

It’s a dark and dreary Monday, but I had a lovely weekend, just as I’d hoped and planned. My house is sparkling clean and I did six loads of laundry. Yes, all of that laundry was for one person! I told you it was dire around here. My top-secret craft project was begun with great success, and I promise I’ll tell you all about it some time after the holidays. The weather was gorgeous; I cooked some of my favorite food (sesame-ginger tofu, a perfect vehicle for peanut sauce and Sriracha); and I found a way to watch the Ducks game online and cheered along as we beat the Golden Bears (and, perhaps more importantly, as Texas A&M beat Alabama — sorry SarahLena!).

[315/366] Currently 38-17.[308/366] Beautiful day in the neighborhood
[316/366] Condiments.Eegs was just chillin' with me before school. Wish I could've stayed home and hung out with him, but SOMEBODY has got to pay the bills around here!

Best of all? I went on an absolutely lovely six-mile run. That’s the longest run I’ve been on since my hip injury in January. I finally feel like a regular runner again! It was so nice to come back to my neighborhood at the end of my five-mile loop and have no qualms about heading out on that little dog-leg for the last mile. I’d given myself the option of only running five, see, but I didn’t need to take it. I definitely feel ready for the 10K on December 1st.

This week will be a busy one, but guess what’s coming up next? Thanksgiving break! We are so lucky here: we get the entire week off. I don’t know many schools who do that and I think it’s absolutely lovely. The only drawback is that we don’t get a fall break in mid October like most others do, so by the time November rolls around we are all absolutely out of our minds and really need the full week off to reclaim our sanity. My guy and I will be heading up to Tennessee for the first weekend of the break (early Thanksgiving with my family) then we’ll be back home for the rest of the week. I cannot even overstate how much I am looking forward to it. I just have to get through this busy work-week and then bring on the pie!

What's Up

Oh, you guys. It has been a long week and it’s only Thursday. Normally I’d be rejoicing at the prospect of a Thursday night, as I almost always have the option of working from home on Fridays, but tomorrow I’ll be going in for a couple of meetings and other such things. So the week isn’t done and yet I feel like I’ve already buried it several times over.

Tuesday night was so (wonderful, but) exhausting. By the time both candidates’ speeches were over and we were staggering tiredly to bed, I felt like I’d lived three full days in the previous 18 hours. Teaching and other work duties have been busy all week, too, and there’s nothing I want more than a relaxing and restorative weekend.

So what will that entail?

  • having a night out with some ladyfriends
  • doing laundry
  • house cleaning
  • working on an academic writing project
  • judging a thesis for a contest
  • starting a big, secret craft project
  • going for a 5-6-mile run
  • watching at least one super-girly movie if not, like, four
  • doing a manicure/pedicure (at home)
  • spending plenty of time in my favorite PJs and slippers

Ok, Claire's Vans, Imma let you finish...

I am looking forward to a good mix of neglected things that really need to get done (Laundry, sweet fancy Moses! I’m about to have to go buy a few new 6-packs of Hanes Her Way if I don’t do the laundry soon) and lazy, fun, me things. I’m flying solo this weekend while my guy is out of town and I’m such a dork that I miss him already, but I’m not going to let that dampen my two days off, right? Right.

Two more things:

If you were one of the people following my weekly outfit posts, I’ve made a new home for them on their own tumblr, safely tucked away where no one has to see them unless they want to. I didn’t really like loading my own blog and seeing tons of huge photos of myself looking at myself in the mirror with my phone in my hand. Ugh. It just wasn’t the content I wanted to have here, useful though it is for me to document that kind of thing. I do still find that snapping a photo of my outfit everyday helps me be less repetetive, more creative, and generally more thoughtful in my choices. This past couple of weeks, I’ve been a bit lazy about putting good outfits together, I admit, but the act of taking/posting the photo makes me want to do better, which must be a good thing. So anyway, follow along on tumblr if you like; ignore if you don’t.

Also, did you notice I’m planning on a 5-6 mile run this weekend? OH YEAH BABY I AM. I have decided to aim for a local 10K on December first. I’ve done a handful of successful 5 mile runs in the last couple of months and I feel like I’m ready to increase the distance up to 6.2. I certainly can’t run that far very fast, at least compared to where I was for the same 10K race last year. I expect to take the hills really slowly (hills aggravate my hip issue) and probably take a couple walk/stretch breaks — both of those strategies usually enable me to run longer without pain. I wish I were ready to be competitive again, but I’m just not. Like my physical therapist said, first endurance without pain, then speed. Last year I PR’d this race in 53:34; this year I hope to come in under 1:06:00, or maybe even closer to 1:00:00. I don’t know, y’all. We’ll see.

So what are your weekend plans? I must know.



The Toothbrush Debate

Would you all care to weigh in on a very crucial issue? One might call it the Most Critical Bathroom Hygeine Issue of Our Time. One might, anyway.

So here’s the picture:

What you see here are two different toothbrush storage philosophies. I am going to attempt to outline each one, briefly, in a neutral fashion so as not to betray which one I favor.

The Green Brush (aka The Cupper): The owner of this brush is following what I assume to be standard toothbrush procedure (at least standard in any bathroom that lacks one of those built-in, toothbrush-specific holders). The Cupper uses the brush, rinses it off, and places it in the cup for storage when done.

The Blue Brush (aka The Sinker): The owner of this brush likes to lay the brush on the side of the sink, as depicted here, in order to let the brush drip dry. The Sinker claims this will prevent an unsightly scum from building up in toothbrush storage cup from where water drips down the brush handle and collects. The alleged intent is to allow the brush to dry on the edge of the sink and then move it to the cup; however, The Sinker usually forgets to move the brush and leaves it on the edge of the sink most of the time.

The Disagreement: The Cupper believes The Sinker’s method to be less sanitary, arguing that germs or bacteria from hand-washing can easily splash onto the toothbrush if it’s left sitting on the edge of the sink. The Sinker does not find this potential hazard to be disturbing, and perceives it to be “less gross” than the possibility of a scummy residue building up in the bottom of the toothbrush cup. Essentially, The Cupper works to avoid bacterial contamination whereas The Sinker works to avoid scummy residue. Neither person is trying to convince the other to change his or her ways; however, The Cupper finds The Sinker’s behavior to be strange and perhaps wrong.

What’s your opinion?

Free Blog Poll

Feel free to explain further in the comments!

Sunday, Lovely Sunday

It’s been an absolutely lovely day so far, leading me to have so many good things in mind that I can’t narrow it down to just one to post on Twitter. (Have you seen the #1goodthing tweets? Please feel free to join in by posting one good thing about your day and tagging it! ) Instead of posting a short tweet today, then, I’ll just detail all the good things here.

This morning started off with me trying to linger a bit longer in bed and Egon trying to convince me to get up and start the day. As you can see in this video, the dude gets very, very excited about breakfast. I tried to match his enthusiasm, which required a big pot of coffee. (Relatedly, can you imagine a small dachshund drinking coffee? Oh mah gah.)

I think I’ll blame what happened next on the coffee: I went to wipe up a few drips and wound up wiping down all the counters and the stove and doing a bunch of minor cleaning and reorganizing throughout the kitchen, sorting and folding reusable grocery bags, and finally installing a hook to hang my apron.

This led me somehow into the office, where I wound up cleaning off my desk and sorting out months of random bills and paperwork and improving my whole personal filing system. The house is looking so neat and organized, and all before 11:00 AM. I don’t even know, you guys, except that it just had to be done. If this is me on two cups of strong coffee, I hate to think how productive I could be if I got myself hooked on meth, you know?

(Joke in poor taste, I’m aware.)

Lake & Clouds

I took Egon out on his daily walk, and let me tell you: that dog is learning to love this routine. I can tell he knows when we are going out for a walk (as opposed to a regular business trip) because he ignores his little patch of grass and just marches confidently down the sidewalk, practically pulling me along behind him. We usually go about a mile to a mile and a half on these walks, and seeing him strut around the neighborhood is absolutely not getting old. It makes me happy every time, thinking of how far he’s come since his spinal surgery in October, when he couldn’t move his back legs at all.

Tree & Sky (no filter)

The weather was so gorgeous and I was enjoying the walk so much I decided to take myself out for another walk (/run) afterward. I dropped Egon off at home and picked up Becky at her corner and we did a short warm-up followed by 20 minutes of run/walk intervals and a cool-down walk back to my corner. I am officially allowed to try incorporating running like this into my workouts this week, as long as I start slow and nothing hurts. When I go back to PT next week, we’ll see if I’m staying in alignment and how my psoas is behaving. Fingers crossed, y’all, but I may be able to start building back up to regular running, slowly but surely.

At the moment, I am continuing my Buffy re-watch (season three, with Faith and Angel the tai-chi master!). Fresh air is blowing all through my house’s open windows and I’ve just had an excitingly healthy lunch of raw vegetables and hummus with a tall glass of Hot and Spicy V8. (You’re understandably jealous, I’m sure.)

Later tonight I am heading to a Mad Men premiere party with some friends, and while I may not get my complete Betty Draper on, I do intend to bust out my half-rim spectacles and treat myself to a rare cocktail on a school night. I believe martinis are on the menu, but I will restrain myself and only drink one. We all know what happens when you have too many martinis: one leads to two; two leads to three, and the next thing you know you’ve eaten two dozen oysters and then need to race up 23 flights of stairs for an important business meeting. Or maybe you just confuse reality with the plotlines of past episodes.

Friends, I hope your Sunday is going as charmingly as mine!

Growing Things

Since I have decided to embrace spring and such, I figured I may as well finally put some plants out on my patio, as I’ve been thinking of doing since I moved in. This is a bit of an adventure, as I don’t really know much about gardening and most houseplants I have tend to die pretty quickly. Some perish at the whim of Flannery the Cat (who, most recently, annihilated an entire aloe plant) while others simply just start to turn brown or lose their foliage for no reason. I am convinced I have a black thumb.

So, obviously, I’m a little nervous about the fate of my new plants — but at least if they’re on the patio they will be safe from the reach of feline claws. Now all I have to worry about is not over- or under-watering them, not burning them up with too much sun or shading them too much, and ensuring the holes I drilled in my new pot are providing adequate drainage. Uh, so, no biggie. I’m sure they’ll be, um, fine.

Anyway! Today I bought a few different annuals (gerbera daisies, marigolds, and moss rose) and put them all together in one big pot. I figure since they’re annuals anyway, it’s not exactly a long term committment, you know? I mean, I’m wary. I’ve been burned before. I thought my Rosemary bush was here to stay, but it started dying from the roots up shortly after the new year. What a disappointing surprise, when I thought it was going so well!

Moss Rose.Marigolds
[84/366] Flower Pot on Patio

My new flowers, on the other hand, are bright and pretty and make my patio a little happier, but if they don’t work out I can try something else in the same spot.


I also bought a basil plant — I haven’t had one of these around in a while, and I really loved it last time. It’s so wonderful to have fresh basil (my favorite herb) that I grew myself, ready to use in salads and pesto and such. Plus it smells amazing. If this all goes well I am looking into getting some dill, too.

[83/366] Sunset at Home

All of these plants and this pleasant weather are making me feel like sitting out on the patio drinking beer and reading good books and forgetting my other obligations. It turns out it’s a pretty nice place to watch the sunset, actually. Maybe not as glamorous as the hotel balcony in Florida, but this sunset-watching spot has the distinct advantage of the fact that it is attached to my home. It seems like spring is off to a good start around here — I hope it stays that way!

If you have any container gardening tips, hit me with ’em!

Cleaning House

I am writing this post from one of the comfortable fake Adirondack chairs on my patio. It is quite nice indeed to be enjoying the spring-like weather, complete with twittering birds and gentle breezes, but that’s not why I’m out here. The covers for my futon and throw pillows, my sheets, and my duvet cover are all in the laundry right now, so I essentially have nowhere to sit inside the house.

I decided that today would be the day I washed and vaccumed everything that had been previously infiltrated with little white dog hairs from Will’s two dogs, or with the essence of the man himself. We split up. He was cheating on me.

I have been wondering what and how much I wanted to say about it here, and I’m still not really sure. For the moment, here’s this: Over the past few months I’d gotten the sense that something wasn’t right; that he was keeping things from me. There were a lot of little deceptions that, on their own, seemed either like misunderstandings or white lies, but, taken together, made me suspicious. In the end, I managed to confirm that on several occasions (since January at least) he’d been with another woman and lied about it. He of course says “nothing happened” and he didn’t tell me the truth because he “didn’t want to raise any concerns.” Isn’t that thoughtful of him?

At any rate, I ended things quickly and cleanly once I knew the truth. I’m still really furious about it, though. I’m mad that he treated me that way, that he thought it was okay to do so, that he thought he wouldn’t get caught, that it went on for months. I’m mad that I doubted my own instincts when I wasn’t sure and that I started thinking maybe the problem was me; maybe I had trust issues. I’m also furious that he didn’t even try to come up with a decent excuse, or ask me to forgive him, or even apologize. He just sat there, staring at me, dumbfoundedly trying to form a sentence. So mad.

So that’s where I am right now. I’ve been hanging out with my girl friends, drinking a good bit of wine, listening to Ani Difranco, and engaging in some of the leisure pursuits that fell by the wayside during our relationship, such as bedtime reading and very healthy cooking.

[74/366] Healthy Dinner

I took a certain delight in the above meal, something I never could have tried to serve him for dinner unless I wanted to be laughed out of town. Baked tofu and quinoa on a bed of raw spinach? Yes please. I’m sure healthy living is somehow even better than revenge. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.