Yesterday while we were walking to our local provider of IT’S-IT®s there was a man dressed in a very roman toga with very roman leaves and berries clasped upon his bare shoulder, getting out of his very unroman blue station wagon.
I’m looking down at my cellphone, realizing (again) that I get no service at all in our neighborhood.
“I hate this. I can’t get service anywhere over here.”
“Is that because your ROAMIN?”
My favorite view of the city. We almost rented an apartment at 19th and Church, with this view visible out some of the front windows.
On thursday we finally finally get the keys to our new place. This means that on Monday we finally get to sleep in our new place. This means that after thursday night i will no longer hear people walking by hacking out their lungs like they’re about to DIE, screaming at the top of their lungs, or have my doorstep pissed on, or have to deal with the fucking mist that rolls into this part of town every night around 6. Also I will no longer have to smell gas from an old stove or take my showers in a claw foot tub which SUCKS beyond belief. I can’t believe I ever thought I wanted one. at this point i can’t believe i ever wanted a lot of things, and I’m so so glad that our apartment is a well lit, large, south facing place with new appliances and new bathrooms.
this also means that on monday we will both be able to shower at the same time (in seperate showers!), cook on our own stove, play video games, and sleep in our own bed. i can’t believe how incredibly excited i am about it. as much as i like to believe that i am completely capable of just running off with a suitcase to some forgein land for MONTHS without a care about anything, i seem to not even be able to go four hundred miles for a few weeks without missing having a home.
I’m not the type of girl that boys buy flowers for.
To begin with I am a little bit of a tomboy, and I think most boys just think that I don’t want flowers. Or that I will kill said flowers almost immediately by forgetting to take care of them. Both are sort of true.
But really, I am not the type of girl that boys buy flowers for because I’ve told every single boyfriend I have ever had how an ex boyfriend would buy me flowers everytime we fought about anything, AND deliver them to my job, where every single girl in the office would oohhh and awwww and talk about how sweet it was, not realizing that I was getting the flowers because he had been a total and complete shit to me, and that instead of saying sorry he’d just call in and buy me flowers, which to me just means, “i’m sort of sorry i fucked up, and i don’t want to expel the energy of fighting with you, but I really would like to get laid tonight, so here.” Sometimes I’d even throw them in the trash, much to the secretary’s dismay.
So I have told every boy that I date about this, and about how I hate flowers now because of it, and NEVER EVER want them EVER again.
Tonight I was riding the train home and there was a boy sitting there with a single red rose wrapped up in a sheet a paper. The only thought that crossed my mind was “Ah god, that’s so sweet. He must be so in love with that girl.”
