This is coming to you from the boyfriend's laptop, because mine turns off every time it gets jiggled. And it's really annoying to use it when I set it on the futon and then it's level with my legs.
It just now occurred to me that I could try setting it on the kitchen table. The coffee table and the end tables wouldn't work because they're level with the futon.
The futon is and has been down for a couple of weeks now. Both of them are, actually, not just the one we've been sleeping on since we decided it was too hot to sleep in the bed upstairs.
I miss the real bed. A lot. If I wake up early enough in the morning, I go and lay in it awhile before I go to work.
That won't be happening anymore because tomorrow I start my new job and I think most of the people there get to work at or before eight am. No one's told me what time to show up the first day. I find that perplexing. I also don't know what the dress code is. Yes, I know, Mom, interview clothes are the only appropriate thing to wear on Day One. Possibly even Week One.
Every Sunday when he decides it's time to go grocery shopping, the boyfriend and I play eight rounds of Therapy Hour: Let's Talk About WHY Mary Ann Doesn't Want to Go Grocery Shopping At All Ever. It's stupid and it sucks.
I do not initiate the talk of going or the talk of why not to go. I also don't know why I don't want to go. I think it has something to do with my extreme dislike of anything remotely routine. Also because I think grocery shopping is something to be done at two am. Unfortunately, I am rarely awake at two am unless I am drunk. And I can't drive myself to the grocery store drunk. And the boyfriend is not going to agree to a grocery run at two am.
I don't know WHY I only want to go shopping in the middle of the night. I just do. Also, I don't think the grocery stores here are 24 hour.
This week, I agreed to clean up some and do some laundry in exchange for not having to go grocery shopping. The boyfriend elaborated that this meant taking out the trash ("But then I'll still have to put on pants." I am the laziest human being who had a real career ever.), loading and running the dishwasher, washing some towels ("And maybe some shirts," he added hopefully) and turning on the Roomba. I have 37 more minutes to finish my chores.
Oh yeah, and I have to SCRUB the fridge. Because there's goo. This is still better than grocery shopping during Sunday Night Family Hour.
I think he outlined it all because even though he didn't say anything, he remembers that night that I stayed home from some errand on the stipulation that I finish unpacking. This was, like, a year ago. I dicked around for a long time and then put the last of the boxes on a bookshelf. They're still there. He really never did say anything.
I think I like not running errands together because that means I get to be home alone and I am only home alone normally for, like, twenty minutes in the morning. And that's all, ever. I've never spent the night alone in this apartment. I don't think I'd like that, either.
I was having a good time running around the apartment singing along to the iPod at the top of my lungs with all the lights in the whole house on. (And also cleaning.) I stopped because I was getting overheated. I was especially enjoying imagining the adjoining balcony neighbors outside smoking wondering how they came to live next door to the sweaty, bad singer with the pigtails.
The boyfriend just came home and I yelled at him because I still have 33 more minutes and I wasn't ready for that. I was really enjoying my alone time. Also, the fridge? Has not been scrubbed. I wish y'all could've seen the look on his face when he walked in and I told him to just leave the groceries on the floor. It was priceless.
Okay, off to scrub a fridge now. 29 minutes to deadline. I also still have to turn on the Roomba.