Post-Holiday Rehash

So it's Christmas Eve, and I'm taking a food break before I do a little work on the computer. I glance over at the computer and the power is off. Which wouldn't have been an issue had I actually turned it off myself. At this point I wasn't alarmed, since a dusting of the computer's insides had done the trick before.

I press the power button. Nothing. Fuuuuuck! I knew the clicking sound I'd heard a month or so before was the power supply's death rattle, but I was hoping the issue would hold off until at least a couple of weeks after Christmas. Silly me to think that I would be able to avoid this singularly fucked up turn of events. I do believe my middle name translates to "Bum Luck."

As for my reaction? Well it was almost as if my mind was divided into two quadrants - the calmer, allseeing section which knew without doubt that I probably wouldn't be without my computer more than a week; and the other part which was very Jenny McCarthy in the first scene of Dirty Love "(ohmygah ohmygah oh my gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahd!!!!!")

I think most of my people fully believed that I would melt into a puddle of misery because my baby was out of commission, but honestly...I needed a damn break. After pulling some serious hours net hustling I was exhausted. So it was almost like a forced vacation, which I gladly took; filling up the hours with paperback novels (Stephen King is GOD), HGTV, and the Discovery Channel (yes I'm a dork).

One thing I did realize is that I funnel a truckload of intellectual energy into my work, and left to my own devices, I think way.too.much. It was almost as if I had to power myself down at night before I could drift off to sleep. So yes Bonqueesha (I've decided this is to be the PC's name from this point on) is my haven. Sublimation keeps me sane.

At any rate, I'm back. Let the moneymaking begin (again).

My ex (next to last one...aka Ex #3 or Hood Boy) called me a couple of days ago. This was quite the surprise, given that I hadn't shared my new phone number with him. Never one to beat around the bush, I skipped the cheerful hello and bluntly asked, "How the hell did you get my number?"

"411."

Damn. I forgot things like that are a matter of public information unless you request otherwise.

I wasn't really displeased; it's sort of flattering to know that ten years post-breakup, I would be uppermost enough in someone's mind that they would put actual effort into finding me. Plus he's a cool cat and I suffered no ill effects from our relationship...I think it being a transitional one really helped. And he still thinks I'm like...a goddess and whatnot (who am I to remove his blinders about this?) AND he makes me laugh; not girlish titters or an affected chuckle. I mean great big guffaws that make your cheeks and belly hurt. Did I mention I love to laugh? So yeah it was cool.

But despite his neverending attraction to me (and his awesome head-giving skills), there will be no reconciliation.

With the exception of Woogie, whose damnable pride would never let him admit it, all my exes say the same thing - "I should have stayed with you." As if the choice was solely up to them. Men are funny creatures, aren't they; blessed with so much hindsight but paltry amounts of foresight.

Oh well...their bad.

Posted by Lisa at December 30, 2006 12:36 PM