I've been cleaning like a madwoman this weekend. Hauled out 6 more 30 gallon bags of garbage. My bedroom is still a disaster. I tried painting the peeling, sagging, bubbly wall in my living room, only to have the new paint peel and sag some more. I'll try again tomorrow.
I've been trying to avoid thinking, I'm so hyper active nervous about work. It seems from all sorts of odd, random things that have been happening, that my department is going to close soon. Uggh. Plus, add to the list of things I should know by now: 42. Never date anyone from work.
Every time I date a new man, I end up wishing I just taken the easy way out and hit myself in the head with a hammer again. Instead of getting my hopes up. At least you're certain with the hammer. Wham. Bam. No thank you, Ma'am.
I spent the eveining tonight going to *Cafe Bar and *Tupelo (Woah, *Astoria hot spots*) with the darling Miss Olga. Much of said evening was spent dispensing relationship advice to said Olga, although with many disclaimers about being a walking, woman-shaped, flypaper trap for bad relationships. Boy, that metaphor really worked, didn't it. I impress myself.
Man, I hate the break-up speach. Although it has gotten easier. I just got to remember to always do it over the phone, and cut things short so we don't get into the real reasons I never want to see your mug again. Ever. Never is too soon.
(Clears throat.) "I just don't think we have any chemistry. No, our personalities just don't mesh. I'm just not feeling it. Sorry. I wish it could have worked out."
See? Isn't that better than, "Ever since you told me about trying to strangle your ex with a belt after she sliced you with a broken bottle, I've had my doubts. Like, quick-run-the-other-way-doubts."