The Week (and a half) of Living Dangerously

The last week and a half have literally been hell. It all started when I got dumped for my political views. Then that next night (Saturday), I spent in the emergency room with my roommate's daughter. She was attempting to open a bottle of soy sauce with her teeth when lo and behold the neck of the bottle breaks and she slices her upper lip open. To the tune of 9 stitches. The next morning (Sunday), I had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to take my roommate to the Atlanta airport for her trip to Jamaica.

The next few days went fairly well. I played nurse to the busted kid, took care of the house and looked after the dog. Not too bad. Tuesday night my stomach started to feel a little funny, but I chalked it up to the macaroni and cheese I'd eaten. Wednesday morning I woke up for work and after walking and feeding the dog, realized I felt like utter shit. After several trips to the bathroom I called in sick for work. After some sleep, Ginger Ale and crackers I had to go to the Atlanta airport to pick up my roommate. I was prepared with several trash bags, Pepto, Ginger Ale and the Saltines. Thank God, the stomach virus from hell held off long enough to get to and from the airport.

Thursday I was still sick. Friday I was feeling a little better but very puny so I stayed home again to try and get my strength back. Friday night I was feeling the best I had in days but knew I didn't need to push my luck so I was going to stay in. I was bored as hell and tired of being in the house, but it was for the best. Sadly, Friday night was the highlight of my weekend. Tommy Lee found out I was sick and bored out of my mind, so he called and told me he was coming over. We sat around and watched movies and he drank beer and I drank my Ginger Ale. I had a great time (except for being sick and all). This is when I like Tommy best of all. When he's not "on", he's just being himself. Himself is a pretty smart, funny, caring guy.

Saturday morning I woke up expecting to feel 100% better, but I'd had a relapse. I stayed in bed all day feeling like absolute shit. I watched a movie, I cried, I got all melancholy. It sucked! I finally managed to drag my ass into the shower at some point after 8 o'clock that night and made myself put on make-up and go out to "the bar". I had to take CAT something anyway so I figured I'd at least get out of the house for a bit. I made it an hour and a half. I felt awful. I couldn't drink. I ran into the Cowboy. Which that actual turned out okay. He doesn't really bother me anymore so I can talk to him without getting angry. I walked over to the other bar with the Cowboy and Abbey. The Young Republican now works there part time. Of course he was working Saturday night and Abbey made a bee line to go talk to him. He kind of ignored me at first, then when he decided that he would eventually have to acknowledge me, he waved. I stayed at the other bar very briefly and then decided to go back to "the bar" say my good-byes and go home.

The Cowboy is kind of touchy feely anyway but because I was sick he was very touchy feely. Rubbing my back, hugging me, kissing my cheek, you get the idea. When I got ready to leave the other bar, he insisted on walking me back to "the bar". I told him I could walk the half block there just fine but he refused to let me go alone. He tells Abbey who is talking to the Young Republican that he's walking me down there and he'll be back. As the Cowboy and I are leaving, he wraps his arm around my waist. I happen to turn back and the Young Republican is staring at me and doesn't look happy. Then he launches into some conversation with Abbey and is motioning towards me and the Cowboy. At this point I'm out the door. I don't know what the fuck that was all about but I'm guessing being friends is out of the question. I was cool with that but to be friends means you actually have to be friendly. He wasn't very friendly to me Saturday.

I get back to "the bar", tell CAT about the Young Republican and go the hell home. Sunday was better. I felt a great deal better but I was still wiped out. So I laid around and watched movies all day. Then Sunday night while watching the Oscars, I talked to Mr. 40+. Some time during the course of our conversation he pissed me off too. I'm getting to the point where I feel like saying "to hell with him", as well. Maybe it's better that I'm just on my own again.