Skrinkering Hearts

With most things in life, I would say I’m pretty thrifty. I like a good sale, discounts, and perusing through the clearance section sometimes. I like stores like Marshalls, TJMaxx (name brands for less, yo!), and I’m amused to search for and find a gem, amongst a bunch of unfortunates. I will buy the food store brand, opting for that choice over the $1.99 more version of the name brand. I’ll pass up a Mobil station to pay .05 cents less two miles away.

All that being said, I would not say I’m cheap. I just recognize and love a good deal when I see one. Don’t get me wrong, I will splurge with the best of them. I have more handbags than I possibly know what to do with; I treat myself to pedicures regularly. I have a colored flip flop probably for each day of summer (perhaps that’s a spec of an exaggeration, but you get the point), and a shoe for every occasion. And I will continue to do all of these things, because, well, I can. For now. And I’ll splurge on other items, such as face wash, lotions, shampoos, a good haircut & foil, and undies.

I’m fortunate enough to have a job that offers me the ability to do these things. I don’t take this for granted. I certainly don’t rake in the dough, by any means. Around the same time every month, I will often go into overdraft protection. Because I’m not good at transferring funds from savings to checking regularly enough. So at about the 3rd of every month, when I’ve just paid rent, I’m waiting on my next pay check, Sallie Mae just kicked my ass, and I’ve made both a car payment, insurance payment, and paid for food (you know, to live), and then the gas bill comes, it’s pretty rough times.

And to get me good when I’m down, then comes the cell phone bill. Which is pretty much the kicker. Some people are phone people. Some would rather step on a nail. I am not one of these people. I love the phone. It’s wondrous chatting with my friends in Maine and NY and NV who all have the same cell phone service so it’s free all of the time. That’s cool, you know?

What’s not as cool, is getting charged .45 cents a minute, when I go over my “minutes.” Which I did. This month. And last month too, but it wasn’t “as big a deal.” This month? We’re looking at a $335 cell phone bill, when it’s usually around, oh, $40. Opps.

So I can attribute this to a couple things:
1–My mother needs to switch to my cell phone company. She just does. I will not switch to hers; I have no interest. I don’t like the provider, the service sucks, and truth be told, most of the people I talk to have my service. Which means mine is the best, clearly. So mom needs to switch.
2–I talk too much before 9pm, and too little after 9pm. Free = after 9. I try to go to bed early these days. I like to talk after work, sometimes on my drive home. Also before work, in the morning, before 9am. Well this isn’t an option. Free also = until 6am. Who will I be phoning with before 6am? Really?
3–I don’t have a home phone. I just rely on my cellie. Which means, any calls I need to make, during business hours, or before 9pm, on a weekday, need to be done on my cell phone. Which adds up, I guess.
4–I sing for too long on voicemails. Yes, I sing. I leave singing messages and perhaps they get too lengthy.
5–I just plain need to get a handle on things. No more of this doubling my monthly minutes. I’m allowed 7.5 hours of off peak, during the day, whenever the hell I want, before 9pm calling. I need to work on this. Restrain myself I guess.

Clearly this bill threw me for a loop. Kind of irked me, because I try to keep better control of this stuff. But then again? It really so bad. Sure, $335 isn’t cool. Not at all. But, since I don’t splurge regularly on really really pricey purses and shoes, just sometimes, maybe this is my thing. I like deals, and I take them when I can get them. Perhaps going over in cell phone minutes is my downfall. I like to talk. Apparently a lot. So maybe I don’t have a new Coach bag to show for it, or a closet full of designer shoes, but I’m still smiling. Because I got a chance to congratulate one of my best friends on the closing of her house at 1pm on a Friday. And I have peace of mind knowing that my grandmother is feeling just fine after chemo at 5:37pm on a Wednesday night. I have laughed harder than I have in a long time talking to a new friend who is good with directions. I got to welcome my longtime friend home from France on a Monday morning at 10am. People know that they are my “sunshine” as I bust into tune on a random Thursday drive home. My penpal in WV and I can share a dodgy ex encounter at 7pm on a Friday night. I now have a new friend because I had to hound the humane society daily between 11am-4pm.
And you know what? So what, I had to pay for all of this? Quite honestly, I would say it was damn well worth it.

And additionally, I now have three new shirts and a pair of earrings that I just retail therapied myself after viewing this bill. You know, because that’s how I roll.

There are those certain times, that while you’re living them, you just know you want to make a conscious effort to tuck away a part of that memory, that moment. Etch it into your mind, your heart. The way she smiled during that conversation, the sweetness of that kiss outside in the rain, the way it felt to finally say what you wanted to say to him. There are those specific moments, snippits of time, that you can just feel it. Feel the need to really embrace it and be there with it, take it all in as much as you can. Because before you know it, the moment will be gone. You know right then and there that you need to make a yourself remember it. And then you find, that not only have you remembered the moment, but you have the details. The color of the place mat at her kitchen table and how the seat cushion was starting to fray just a spec. The way the rain was starting to trickle down the driveway and form a puddle by your feet. What you were wearing when you told him that you needed a little space that cool day in March.

There are other times, when perhaps you weren’t thinking that this is one of these times, those things that you should for sure, tuck away, keep close, to remember down the road. Sometimes they’re sneaky, these memories. You’ll be sitting in your bed at night listening to Rachel Yamagata, and find yourself remembering the way his hand fit in yours. How he tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your cheek.

Time goes by, life happens. Before you know it you’re sitting on the couch at 11:30pm on a weeknight, drinking beers with good friends, rehashing the remember-when’s of a couple years ago. The time that you’re apartment had a flood and you all stayed in a hotel for the night. When relationships were new and your best friend couldn’t eat (and let’s be frank, neither could you, by association) because she had that “I’m gonna shit” feeling that you get when a new guy is in the picture.

As we grow older, and life changes happen, we realize that what is, right now, might not be, in a month. Or a year. Being able to sit around and shoot the shit with good friends, drinking beers with no reserve, with no big obligations other than feeding a new kitty can sometimes be taken for granted. If you let them.

When you sit back and think of the times, perhaps a year ago, maybe five years ago or more, when things were so different than they are now, it helps to put things in perspective. Because when you’re say, ten, and you want to go play outside on the swings with your best friend across the street, and you misplace a jelly shoe, that is the biggest thing in your life. That’s big happenings and thinking about it now makes you realize that you had it so easy then.

Which makes you think about the present. The way things are, right now. And how quickly things can, and do change. Because five years from now, you and your best friends probably won’t have the luxury to just meetup over American Idol and margaritas. People will marry, and move, and make babies. Some of you already have. It makes you grateful and appreciative for what is, right now, this instant. The small moments that pass between friends and loved ones. Soft touches and glances across the room. Shopping at Target for three hours on a Tuesday night.

Realizing that things won’t always be this way, and could very possibly change at any moment, makes you just that much more appreciative of it right as it’s happening. Right now.

We fought. Argued. So often. We’d bicker, and I hated it. Especially before bed. You didn’t want to talk about the fight the next morning. I did. I wanted answers. Why did we keep doing this? Mustn’t this be a sign? You said that all couples fought. And I refused to believe that. You said I overreacted, calling me selfish for wanting to talk about it because you said you were done with the conversation. And “how could I” not accept that. I told you I wasn’t being selfish. That I just wanted a plan. To work on, or towards. To make this get better. Not knowing for sure if it really ever could, get better.

I was sad. Upset. And discouraged. Thinking, wondering, is this as good as it gets? This? This is what it’s like? And I began to think maybe I was overreacting. I began to cherish the good, lived for the good of it all, of us. Those few and far between good times, amidst all of the turmoil. I would apologize, over and over, for making you upset. Actually believing that it was my fault.

You said you never felt this strongly for someone before. Couldn’t picture life without me. You, we, we pictured a family together. Marriage and a house and children and a puppy.

We would have our happy times. Takeout on the floor over candlelight. Ice skating hand in hand on a cold winter day. Then, inevitably, it would go back. Back to bad. To yelling and drinking and tears in the bathroom, or over chai tea at a Starbucks with a girlfriend down the road on a bad night.

Using all of the emotional strength I could muster up, I tried. Over and over to make it all work. Make it better. Make us better. Tried, with all I could, to make us the happy couple that I hoped we could be. I wanted so badly for us to just be happy together. I thought I could do that could be us.

It didn’t work. After a while, it all ended up being much, much more actual work, to make us work, than it was worth. I loved you with everything I had, and pulled the hardest move I’ve ever had to make when I told you I couldn’t do it anymore. When I said goodbye.

It’s been a long time since all of that. I don’t think about you as often as I once did. But I still do sometimes. And it’s sneaky. It sneaks up on a warm sunny Sunday afternoon in the summertime. When I’m not doing anything we ever did together, I’ll think of you then. And it will throw me for a loop. We never had a summer. I’ll be on a bike ride, or eating homemade salsa at a friend’s house, and you’ll be there. Not physically, but you’re there. And it will hit me like a ton of freaking bricks. It creeps in. You, creep in. You end up in my thoughts, just like that, and sometimes in my dreams. Into my mind at a random moment.

And maybe there are some triggers, who knows. Seeing your friend, who is dating my friend. Me, meeting a new guy. Hearing a song on the radio that reminds me of you, of us. But sometimes, there you are, again, all of a sudden. With no rhyme or reason to it all, you’re back. And I don’t even see it coming. The bag and box of you and your things, your reminders, the notes and cards, our pictures and your boxers, they’re all stowed away. Gone are the physical reminders of you.

But those emotional reminders, those damn emotional reminders, that have a way of getting in, unexpectedly, they go, and they stick right to my heart. And then I feel it, and I feel you, like a little twinge from time to time. A reminder maybe. Of a time when. What once was. What is so different now, today. Of where I’ve been and where I’ve come.

You’re still there. Here. Sometimes more than others. Often it’s nothing. Sometimes it’s really intense, pulling, abruptly at my heart.

I miss you sometimes, and I don’t really want to anymore.

Friday night I met a new guy.

Saturday I did a little mini-triathlon in prep for three weeks from now.

AND THEN….

I met….

COSMO:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In between all of this, there were Sam Summer’s with friends, bbq’s, beautiful weather, and a follow up phone call from Friday night’s boy.

Not a bad weekend at all.

Today I was in a bit of a funk over a kitten. Over a kitty I didn’t get. I saw two sweet little sister kitty’s yesterday. Wicked cute and of course I was totally smitten; it doesn’t take much. Because I was running in a race after work (training, yo!), I couldn’t take said kitten home with me that day. So I was told to call back today because the jerks nice nice people at the shelter cannot hold pets for really interested parties. Well low and behold, both kitties were gone and I was shit out of luck. Which is fine, I know it’s just a cat and it’s so not the end of the world, but holy hell, I really wanted this little one. And it’s just no fun getting your hopes up for something like that, that doesn’t end up working out.

It just mustn’t have been meant to be. Probably would have been a Cujo kitty or something. I mean, I can only assume that’s the reason that kitty didn’t work out for me. And there are other kitty’s in the sea, I know this. The right one will come along and there’s no sense on getting all down and out about it. But I was for a bit today, and felt I had a right to be as I had setup kitty’s room (the nursery), with food, water, and toilet (kitty treats to anyone who can guess this reference!). The whole nine. For no such kitty today.

But then I got an email from my dear friend Brooke, which always makes my day. Shortly thereafter, I had a fun chat with three good friends, which made me smile and laugh and worked me out of aforementioned funk.

And then there’s Melissa who shared this gem of a video again, which always gets me. Completley hysterical. Pee before watching.

And what really did it, what always helps to make a day such as this better, is the red lipstick. The cakey red lipstick that my roommate and I buy, and don (and keep on hand) in emergencies such as this one. We’ve been known to bust this out if a cute boy doesn’t call back, after a shit day at work, or tonight, when we looked at a kitten-to-be’s quarters and there was, no kitten. This lipstick is the classic red cake that you can imagine an older woman donning, who maybe smells a bit mothballish. I don’t know this for a fact, but it’s a red that should not be worn out of the house. Rather, should be saved for occasions such as this, for a good laugh while one may or may not have been crawling around on the living room floor showing roommate how a kitten might bathe themselves.*

To better luck tomorrow.

*No alcohol was consumed during the red lipstick scene and/or the possible kitten bathing demonstration, which may or may not have really happened.

I love the time I have for myself on my drive to and from work each day. Lately with the nice weather I’ve been all about the sunroof open and windows down, music blaring. It’s one of the only times each day, that I have, for just me. Time to think about life, or not. Time to zone out and listen to loud music. Sometimes even time to just have a quick, quiet cry, or if it’s really a bad day, the ugly cry that Brandy and I have discussed. Mostly I just enjoy the me time, to have just for myself, by myself, each day. I look forward to it. I don’t mind the 45 minutes it takes to get to work and back, and I seldom even mind the traffic. It relaxes me after flipping out in the morning when I forget if I turned my straightener off or not. It calms me after a stressful day with clients who have Tourette’s and yell obscenities all over the place.

And for a Professional People Watcher like myself, I tend to notice the little things going around around me and I have to then rehash them to whoever will listen. Or to you guys.

To the man I see outside the little Indian market at the end of my street:
I’m sorry, but the socks and sandals combo is not really helping your cause. You look like a very nice man, you even sometimes smile at me as I drive by. This is why I think we should discuss this little minor issue. Socks and sandals, of any type, do not a good fashion statement make.
(And yes I am the authority on this issue. My best friend’s name is Clinton and you can catch me on TLC on Friday nights.)

To the woman on the street a couple over from me who rakes the sand on her sidewalk every morning:
You are just adorable. Seriously. That little red sweater that you wear (albeit daily), even in 95 degree humidity, along with the red knee socks, is just too cute for words. My only request would be, that you perhaps invest in a broom. The rake just really grates on my ears. That sound on the sidewalk. It. Just. About. Kills. Me. So that’s why I had Justin Timberlake blasting today. And I’m sorry that startled you.

To the man next to me on the highway, with the Italian flag dangling from your rearview mirror, along with what appears to be some sort of medallion?:
You need to take a picture. Don’t stare while driving. In fact, don’t stare in general, it’s kind of rude. And it freaks me out, just a spec. You are wearing too many gold chains and your hair has more product that I care to see on anyone. Keep driving.

To the woman?/man? (I honestly couldn’t tell), in the red Mazda 6, who was driving EIGHT MPH today:
Pick it the hell up! I understand on side streets one might slow down, say, enjoy the kids playing at the park, the flowers on the road. Or maybe you’re lost and you’re looking for a street sign. But honestly? Truly? Do you really need to go 8? MPH? It really irks me. And I know I enjoy my alone, me, car time, but really. Let’s be honest here. By the time I’m three or four streets away from home, I’m done. I want out and I don’t want to wait another 20 minutes to get home. Please tell me what route you plan to take in the future and I’ll take a different one to avoid you. I’m sorry.

To the hot police officer who appears to be directing “traffic” outside of an office building on my alternate route home:
What’s your schedule? I took your way home today and holy hell am I glad. You were looking quite sexy in your uniformed garb, golden tan, and appropriate sunglasses. If I knew that this was your beat I would have taken this route ages ago. It may be sad, but I’m hoping to be pulled over tomorrow, by you my dear. Bring it.

And lastly,
To the cute grandkids of my landlord who play in the driveway, daily, with chalk:
You’re really really adorable. And I just want to smuggle you into my apartment to play with trucks together or watch Doug Funny with you guys. You’re way too cute. It’s sometimes overwhelming, your cuteness. And you make the end of a long day really worth it.

That is all blogbuds.
Oh wait. Micey was caught. That’s right. In the basement. Trapped. Dead. In case you were all losing sleep over this, as I sure as hell have been. Let’s hope his friends are all outa here now as well.

Four more days until the weekend.

The weekend away was wonderful. At the beginning of the week we had been hearing nice weather, later we heard rain. So I didn’t bring my bike. Turns out I should have. The weather was gorgeous. Really, it couldn’t have been more perfect. Mid 70’s, sunny, not humid, not until today when we were leaving.

We all met at the Maine Diner on Friday afternoon for lunch. I rode up with my mom and stepdad, and we met my grandparents and aunt, and other aunt and her girlfriend for mostly fishy stuff, which is all good because it’s Maine, and I’m starting to seafood now. A spec at least. Haddock here and there, crab cakes sometimes, and if I’m feeling frisky, scallops! So lunch was good, a really nice start to the weekend. My grandmother was wearing her little scarf which actually has real looking bangs attached. Which is just so cute, and and sweet, and a little bit sad too. And she just looked absolutely adorable as did my precious grandfather sporting his new shoes which ended up keeping him up with foot cramps later that night.

Our hotel was just fabulous. Views to die for, with the ocean just feet away (pictures to come!). I was in a suite with my aunt, with a porch that overlooked the water, right on the marina with boats docked right there. We each had our own room and bathroom, we could hear the ocean from the living room, it was just amazing. The massage that we all got treated to on Saturday was wonderful. Especially after taking two runs that morning. Runs that led right to the beach, and you can imagine how much I enjoyed that whole scene.

This morning was really nice as things wrapped up with a family breakfast for Father’s Day. In light of some family illnesses lately, my grandmother’s recent diagnosis, and just the more obvious fragileness of life itself as of late, it was just very very nice to get away and have some quality time with my loved ones. I feel so blessed to have the amazing family that I do. And now I need to stop lest the tears start up.

The weekend was just perfect. Only thing that would have made it better would have been if I got to see my father today. I called him today, far off in Reno. Although it’s a great place to visit and travel to, and I love every second of my time there with him, sometimes I just wish he were still a car ride away, close enough to just see anytime, spur of the moment. I would have loved to have swung by and picked him up for lunch and a movie today like we used to do. We will just have to take a raincheck for September when I’m going out to see him again.

Hope everyone has had a great weekend, and Happy Father’s Day to all of you too.

The weekend away was wonderful. At the beginning of the week we had been hearing nice weather, later we heard rain. So I didn’t bring my bike. Turns out I should have. The weather was gorgeous. Really, it couldn’t have been more perfect. Mid 70’s, sunny, not humid, not until today when we were leaving.

We all met at the Maine Diner on Friday afternoon for lunch. I rode up with my mom and stepdad, and we met my grandparents and aunt, and other aunt and her girlfriend for mostly fishy stuff, which is all good because it’s Maine, and I’m starting to seafood now. A spec at least. Haddock here and there, crab cakes sometimes, and if I’m feeling frisky, scallops! So lunch was good, a really nice start to the weekend. My grandmother was wearing her little scarf which actually has real looking bangs attached. Which is just so cute, and and sweet, and a little bit sad too. And she just looked absolutely adorable as did my precious grandfather sporting his new shoes which ended up keeping him up with foot cramps later that night.

Our hotel was just fabulous. Views to die for, with the ocean just feet away (pictures to come!). I was in a suite with my aunt, with a porch that overlooked the water, right on the marina with boats docked right there. We each had our own room and bathroom, we could hear the ocean from the living room, it was just amazing. The massage that we all got treated to on Saturday was wonderful. Especially after taking two runs that morning. Runs that led right to the beach, and you can imagine how much I enjoyed that whole scene.

This morning was really nice as things wrapped up with a family breakfast for Father’s Day. In light of some family illnesses lately, my grandmother’s recent diagnosis, and just the more obvious fragileness of life itself as of late, it was just very very nice to get away and have some quality time with my loved ones. I feel so blessed to have the amazing family that I do. And now I need to stop lest the tears start up.

The weekend was just perfect. Only thing that would have made it better would have been if I got to see my father today. I called him today, far off in Reno. Although it’s a great place to visit and travel to, and I love every second of my time there with him, sometimes I just wish he were still a car ride away, close enough to just see anytime, spur of the moment. I would have loved to have swung by and picked him up for lunch and a movie today like we used to do. We will just have to take a raincheck for September when I’m going out to see him again.

Hope everyone has had a great weekend, and Happy Father’s Day to all of you too.

I’m thinking maybe it has something to do with the fact that for a good solid fifteen years of my youth, into college, I was frequently in, or around water. As a kid, we’d vacation and Fourth of July (yup, I verbed that), in Maine. I’d spend sweltering, sunburned days by the beach, and love every second of it. Soon after, it was more pool oriented. Taking, and then teaching swim lessons at the local Y. I was in lifeguard training at fifteen years old (when me and Resusa-Andy became so tight). During, and after that time, it was daily swim practices and swim meets, and life guarding at the Swim and Tennis Club. Yup, the one where the unfortunate glass incident went down.

So for really as long as I can remember, water- be it the salty ocean, a chlorinated pool, or a bubble filled tub, has brought me comfort. A certain tough to put my finger on, type of peace.

Swimming for two hours every day, brought me a kind of escape. A time, although often spent with a team, was also in many ways so individual too. It was a time where time, life, actually stopped for me. Was kind of put on hold, while I would swim my worries and stress and whatever else away. It was two hours of freedom. Just to be in the water brought on a feeling of relaxation and ease.

So, not being a “swimmer” anymore, or a competitive one at least, I miss it. The water, and its effect on me. Sometimes, when I just need a break from life and daily stuff, heavier things and sometimes not, I take a drive to the nearest place with water that I can get to.

A year and a half ago when a boyfriend of the time sent me the song “Goodbye My Lover” while I was at work, and told me that my “thank you” to the flowers he sent me was bullshit, I escaped. Left work at lunch, drove to a park, and sat on a bench in front of the water and cried. Afterwards I felt better.

In Myrtle Beach a little bit ago, I left my group of friends to take a walk on the beach, alone, for an hour. I brought along my ipod and headed off in no direction really, with my feet in the sand and salty water, and just went. It was a time where I could just be. Afterwards I felt refreshed. Rejuvenated and at peace.

Today during my lunch hour, I came to the river where I’ll be swimming for the triathlon in a month. I walked by the Boulevard, found a quiet spot under a tree, and sat next to four ducks, and wrote in my journal. Afterwards I felt more relaxed, more balanced.

And this weekend, I’ll be taking a family trip, eight of us, to a beautiful scenic place by the sea. Between family breakfasts, Father’s Day activities, cocktails (because there will be some of that), I plan to take some time on my own. Away, by the ocean. A chance to gain some clarity and balance, some perspective and direction on things. Because that’s what I do. I know that when I get feeling anxious or nervous, flustered and off balance, what I really need is some quality time around or in water.
Or with my mom, which will also be a bonus this weekend.

I thought it was my worst nightmare come true. Because I’m very, very scared of burglars and things in the night, in the dark. Breakins and such. So when I got a text message, and a phone call, at 3am from my roommate, down the hall, I knew something was wrong. My heart raced, big time as I noticed the missed call. Woken out of a dead sleep, I picked up my cell phone off of my nightstand, flustered and not quite getting what was going on. Who the hell would be calling me right now? I didn’t even have time to go through the list of possibilities, before a text message came through. She hadn’t left a voicemail. I didn’t even bother to read the text, I immediately called her back. No answer. Holy hell. Freakish scary things began going through my mind. I sat up straight in bed, hair in a wavy mess on top of my head, too warm from the humidy outside and having forgotten to open my window more.

She wasn’t answering. I wasn’t moving. Was someone in there? In our apartment, in her room? Did she call me in her only free minute to get away from some intruder? Oh my god. I was flipping out.
So I went to my inbox. Scrolled to the newest text.

“brookem i just saw a mouse oh man”

An intruder is right! I breathed a sigh of relief, in that moment, as I read the message. Because the intruder wasn’t some bad bad man coming in with knives for fingers, or needles to inject my belly (because this does happen in real life, and clearly television gets the best of me). The intruder was of another sort. A small, furry? (are they furry?) sort.

So I finally made my way out of bed. This was all over the course of two minutes. This is dragging the drama out, but really, this is just how freaked I was by it all. Seriously. I don’t do well with any type of intruder. (As if that wasn’t apparent enough already.)

I made my way over to my roommates room, calling her name as I was walking towards her. No response. Holy hell, the mouse has gotten her. It’s pitch black, I’m barefoot, I don’t know where micey is, what if I encounter it? This is serious.

I get to her door, which I have to push open, as she has it barricaded now with Old Navy bags, shoes, and other paraphernalia. Because this will keep micey out, since she thinks she saw it leave.

She’s in a ball on her bed. Fetal position style. I tip tow sprint to her bed. We both just look at each other. Seriously, in horror. Well where is it?! Are you sure you saw it? Did you hear it? What color is it? Did it wake you up?!

She was 95% sure she saw it. She had apparently woken up, looked towards her door, just in time to see sicko micey skrinkering away. Under her door. That nerve.

So now micey was on the loose, in the apartment. Out of her room, in the living room? The kitchen?
MY BEDROOM? No. It couldn’t have gotten there already. Plus, my room is smaller, not as much hiding space there (or so I tell myself and roommate, now at 3:15am). We’re trying to believe this. Micey is out of her room. She says she can’t stay in her room. Alone. So we go back to my room. Flashlight in hand, two freaked out roommates, probably holding hands if I remember correctly, make their way across the apartment, back to my room. We hop in the bed. Fast. Cat like reflexes we get there that quick.

Of course we had to rehash all of this. How could this happen? Are we leaving cheese out? Why does he want to come in here? How did he get in? (Because by now, we just both knowingly determined it, is a he.)
“So you’re sure you saw him??” “You’re positive it’s a mouse, right?” She thinks so. We’re sweating now, anxious. Kind of laughing a spec too, because really, this would so happen to us. I decide to turn out the light, reluctantly. We don’t hear anything, don’t see anything, things seem safe enough at this point. We need to get some sleep, it’s now almost 4am, we’re getting up in mere hours.

“How do you feel?” I ask her. Because I know she was freaked. Oh god, not that I wasn’t. But she is the one who encountered this intruder.

“I feel like I just saw an ex boyfriend. But this is worse.”

And this, this is why I love this girl so much. No one else I know would come up with this so true connection. And I agreed wholeheartedly. This ensued a long winded conversation about ex boyfriends, to which we decided, we would prefer to see, encounter, the worst of the worst ex, over seeing this mouse on any day. We recalled boyfriends from the past, those that ended badly, those that didn’t. Those that we still had feelings for maybe?, those that we were completely done with. And still, we concluded, seeing any of these men, over micey would be our total preference.

And that’s pretty bad.

We finally got back to sleep. Kind of the one eye open type though. I got up at 6ish to run, and luckily didn’t lay my eyes on any such micey beast. Thank GOD. Today, calls were made to Mr. Landlord, who says he will be supplying us with copious amounts of peanut butter, and traps. He wants to set up one in roommates room, to which we will, and are of course freaking out at the thought of. Co-workers tell me I just need to break this things neck. Which leaves me feeling so warm and fuzzy inside. Truly.

Holy hell to the day that we find this little sucker slammed down in a peanut butter mess. And you can be sure updates will be on the way.