The holidays are over, unless you don’t count it till Washington’s birthday or something. And now we must return to the nonstop rush of working from our living rooms.
Have you ever seen that Progressive commercial where the woman is trying to watch TV and her boyfriend wants her to feel his forearms because he thinks they got bigger from twirling his sign? Then he picks up the giant sign and twirls it right in front of her face, and the whole time she’s trying to watch her TV show?
See, that there is why I will never NOT live alone, but also, that there is me every morning when I’m typing at you. Because Forest has a routine. And also a delicious poutine he wants to give you the recipe for.
I don’t know what it is, but the moment I open this laptop, he leaps up here and floops between me and the screen, and he never alights, so I’m constantly moving my head back and forth to SEE, and also he has no control of his CLAWNS yet, and yes I called them clawns. So he gleefully purr-paws just anywhere on me, purr-paws with abandon, cramming his razor kitten clawns on my arteries or eye sockets or fingertips or he doesn’t give a shit. He’s just so HAPPY.
Anyway, hi. How was everyone’s Christmas if you’re into Christmas, and new year, which you have to be into, I don’t care how unique you want to be. “Oh, I’m a vegan pagan who can smell numbers. We don’t have a new year.”
As I said I would, because as we all know I stick to my word like it’s glue, for NYE I did get a pupcake for Edsel and pie for me (lemon custard) at a place that closed at 5, a thing they didn’t tell me till like 2 minutes to 5:00. I’d placed the order to pick up later. 5:00 was one of the choices. They had all day to tell me.
Anyway, I made it, five minutes late but they were there anyway.
Then I watched the Laura Ingalls Wilder special on the PBS.
Back before the internet, when our lives were normal and we looked at each other during dinner, there was this weekly paper in Seattle called The Stranger. It’s probably still there. Anyway, in the back was a dating … I don’t even know what you’d call it. The personal ads? Like in the pina colada song?
I met several men using The Stranger’s dating … area, as men who advertised in there were my type. It never occurred to me to place my own ad, but it didn’t really deem itself necessary as I always had great luck just answering them.
I can no longer remember where I was going with this.
Oh! Yes I can. I remember one guy’s ad said that, in profile, he looked just like the “P” in the PBS logo.
That made me giggle for six hours, and I didn’t answer his ad, I forget why. He probably said he was a vegan pagan who tasted months, but now here I am an old woman who shall wear purple and I still giggle at that and I think we can all agree he was clearly my soulmate, if I believed such a disgusting thing existed.
It was all so exciting then. In my late 20s/early 30s. It felt like any day you could just leave the house and meet some dude, and many times I did. In my Seattle days, I met men all sorts of ways. Once on the ferry when some ferry worker was charmed by my wiles.
Once in a bar when I ripped the label off my beer, wrote my phone number on it, walked up to a man and handed it to him and walked out.
Once when a man came to have his taxes done at the accounting firm where I answered phones, and I told him fun places to go, as he was new in town. The next day he sent two (2) bouquets of flowers and an invitation to go to the places I’d suggested.
Once I was at a bar with my women friends, and hadn’t planned to go out at all that night so I’d put in little effort, and someone came in selling roses and a — he was cute now that I think about it — man bought one and had it sent over to me from across the room.
I did not give the time of day to any of these men except for the beer label one, as I had picked him out myself. In retrospect, they were probably all better fits than beer label guy, whom I dated for two years and had little in common with. He was the type of person who got the orange drink at McDonald’s.
Oh, except for that guy on the ferry. He was an even worse fit. He WORKED on the ferry, and they probably had rules about picking up women at work, but All This, who can resist. Anyway, I had at the time the latest accoutrements on my phone that most people didn’t: caller ID, call waiting, conference calling. I had these things because I made $22,500 a year answering phones at that accounting firm, so why not?
Anyway, that ferry guy called me to firm up our plans, but what he did not know is that I could tell he was calling me from a tanning place.
A tanning place. And I don’t mean he had some hides he needed to take care of.
So. He was not for me. Old George Hamilton ferry worker, over there.
I have no idea how I went from spinning Geico signs to missed romance from the ’90s, but these are the rides you take when you climb aboard old June, here.
Did you make any New Year’s resolutions? I did not. I figure it’s enough just to muddle through this whole … time until things get better. I don’t also need to learn inner peace and acceptance of men who go to tanning salons.
Oh, and speaking of inner peace, I did something stupid. I read online about this new year tarot reading you could give yourself, and it made itself seem like it wasn’t a “here’s what’s gonna happen this year” reading. It made itself seem like more of a “here is some guidance about the last year and what will help you in the year ahead” type of deal. Because I know myself and if I get any bad news it will ruin the whole year.
There were categories, and I was humming along beautifully. It said I felt trapped last year, like I was stuck. HAHAHAHAHA. Thanks. Funny. Then it said it was my own mind trapping me and not any outward things. HAHAHAHAHAHA. News flash. Anyway, it LURED me into the category of “health and well-being” and I
SHOULDA SKIPPED IT
because I know how I am. But I got the six of wands in reverse, which means some condition I thought was gone might rear its head this year.
Then I spent the entire night in a cold panic.
OK. First of all, they’re tarot cards. They’re supposed to be sort of fun and you sort of half don’t believe them at all. At least that’s how I see them. When they DO come true, you go, Holy shit, really?
Then also, have I ever had anything scary or serious? I have not. I have THOUGHT that I have had things that are scary or serious and they were not. So what could come back? Migraines. Plantar fasciitis. Maybe that thing I had. What was it? That thing that hurts that you get after chicken pox. Skillets or skittles or what the hell is it called?
You know, my hypochondria used to be this charming little quirk I had, but now it’s getting on my nerves and takes up about 70% of my thoughts. Like, now it really actually scares me. I find it annoying and wish I had something more entertaining to think about.
In summation, I wish I hadn’t read that card. Because I already ruined 2021. Only 361 more days to go.
I’d better go start complaining about the part where I have no work to do yet today. The thing about my job is I’m at the end, and this is very much the beginning, so I’m not surprised. And yet? I have to have something on my time sheet for right now, so you can see my conundrum.