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september 5, 2001."Isabella's putting expanding foam in our cracks. No, wait. That doesn't sound right." - Scherezade, on the phone this evening
(The marital bed. Clock shows 7:15 a.m. AMORET dozes in lazy abandon. Enter THE BOY) THE BOY Okay, I'm leaving sweetie. I'll re-set the alarm; what time do you need to be up? AMORET 2:30. THE BOY What?! AMORET I have an orientation meeting at 2:45. THE BOY I hate you.
I have a 2-day week this semester. God, it'll be sweet to get back to the slack life. Right now I'm less 'slack' than 'utterly exhausted from a go-go-go trip home.' No matter how quiet my days are, I still feel the need to lie down quite a bit. In fact, I think it just may be time for a nap.
Later . . . I think I accomplished quite a bit today, despite not leaving the house until 2 p.m. I bought all the textbooks for this semester, checked in at work, researched the possibility of getting a pelvic exam in the next week, stowed away a handful of condoms & attended a field experience placement meeting that rapidly devolved into a "this school board will pay you this much" avaricious saliva-fest. If I wanted to teach in California, they could offer classes of 20 students and money money money: a 5,000 signing bonus, 1,500 in moving expenses & 40-60,000 a year, all in US funds. As some are wont to say, *drooool*. I could get the same salary in Canadian funds if I relocated to lands north of 60, plus tax breaks, plus the social studies fun of living with First Nations peoples. And unlike California, there's nothing to spend your money on up north, so I could save a whole whack of that filthy lucre. Of course, I can't do any of this. The Boy's going back to school next year, so I can't even think about leaving the country until his bachelor degree is completed. It would be nice and convenient if we could treat our relationship like a fresh steak, and stick it in the freezer of separate residences while he studied and I made money hand over fist. But the reality is that the absences he incurs on the job right now are enough to drive us both half-mad (thus completing our insanity, as we were half-mad when we met.) One night away is bad enough. Spending 8 months apart is not an option. But it's a nice little pipe dream, isn't it? As for the reproductive matter mentioned earlier (I once had a dog named Segue. Speaking of dogs...), I ran out of birth control pills yesterday. It's not a big worrying deal right now; after all, the Boy is in Yarmouth (although I'm sure there's a nice crop of frosh minutes from my door who would like to lose their tender innocence). I've been thinking of staying off the pill anyway; I like the convenience but I don't like wondering what it's doing to my body. Besides, Little Spider tells me that it affects my sex drive, which is certainly something to be concerned about. I'll get the pelvic exam done as soon as possible, as that's a health precaution, but I'm in no hurry to fill another year's worth of magic pills, at least not until I get more data on this libido thing. But it's one of those millions-of-contributing factors problems. Right now I can't figure out if I'm feeling the effects of prolonged separation from the Boy, prolonged flirtation while in Toronto, or the normal coursing of an unmedicated body. I'll let you know.
this time 4 years ago: dirk passing out on my floor in a 3-piece suit |
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