One day I am gonna grow wings.

“A chemical reaction, hysterical and useless…” – Radiohead

Spent the weekend lounging around, mostly because my head is still burning like a bitch (and when my hair strands started jumping ship this morning I made Paul check my scalp), but it’s been quite lovely to just do nothing.

Paul and I were supposed to go to BookCon (we have a list of “Chicago” things to do this summer, and since BookCon was coming to McCormick Place, I figured, “Why the fuck not?” and then my head was like, “HAHA SUCKKKAAAA.”).

So, no BookCon. I tried to get out of bed like six times yesterday to go, but it just didn’t happen. It wasn’t like the sleep was great (although maybe it was needed?) because I just kept having stress dreams. In one, I just kept spending money I didn’t have. And like, instead of buying one of something, I’d buy twenty, and then wonder where I was gonna make friends so that buying 20 things would be worth it.

Yes. Even in my dreams I have very little friends and very much of panic.

Probably this happened because Paul and I “argue” about money more than anything else. He’s a saver, I’m trynna be a saver, too, but… like, I got places to go and random shit to buy, you know? It’s never a huge argument; we’ve never stopped speaking to each other (and if we did, it’d be a shame. We have some pretty fucking hilarious banter).

As I mentioned before, we both started budgeting using YNAB a few months ago, and of course he’s got like 2 months worth of savings and I’ve got… like… 5 minutes. But, hey! I’m getting better. If this is all we squabble about then I’d say things are good.

Well… that’s not exactly true. We also argue about how much sugar I crave and want to eat.

Like, yesterday? I went into the cabinet to get something for dinner, and I found… I found!!!!! GLUTEN-FREE BROWNIES!!!! Which he bought for me and had planned to make for me at some point in time.

So I said, “I would like those brownies… now.”

And he said, “Yes, but if I make you the brownies, if you ate some of them, they’d last longer.”

And I said, “FUCK YOU I WANT ALL THE BROWNIES!”

He tried to convince me that eating “some” of the brownies would be more satisfying than all of them, in one sitting, but obviously he’s never been a female on a mission where the objective is to eat all the fucking chocolate you see.

The brownies have yet to be made, and dinner was really terrible, but he did get me two donuts and coffee this morning. Sidenote: I actually don’t eat as much sugar as I used to (sadly, I’m coming to terms with the fact that it really does make me feel terrible and I’m probably going to cut it out completely one of these days). But, um, Dunkin Donuts coffee is pretty disgustingly sugary and awful. #starbucksforlife

Moving on.

We also view household stuff differently. Today, I started putting the dishes in the dishwasher and he was like, “Whatcha doing?” and I was like, “Helping,” and he told me later he asked that because it took him a minute to process that he didn’t have to do the dishes.

I mean, why am I gonna do anything when he just gets right on it, am I right?!

Eh. I’m probably wrong. But I am lucky enough to live with a person who does laundry (my clothes never go in drawers. They just sit on the dresser. Well, there was the one time his mom came to visit and I shoved everything I possibly could into any open space I could find. That didn’t last long though, because I realized I couldn’t find anything. Oh, and then there’s the floor space by my side of the bed where I just throw clothes randomly. Paul refers to this space as “the shadowy place” as in “Simba, you must never go there….”). It makes me wonder how I ever got anything done. I lived on my own for nearly seven years.

Okay, so maybe we have little tiffs here and there but they’re never super serious. I’d say it’s pretty healthy, actually, to have different perspectives and ways of dealing with things. Like, he helps me learn how to not be so reactionary to everything, and I help him learn how to consider things from a different side than his own. He helps me learn video games, and I help him learn Hamilton subconsciously by blasting it every time I take a shower.

(Seriously can’t wait until tickets go on sale in Chicago. Like, screw fucking budgeting, I’m getting those fucking tickets.)

Right now, he’s playing “Mass Effect” which makes me giggle because Seth Green does voice-overs and it makes me want to watch Buffy. I’m trying to level up my black mage in FFXIV, but it’s taking a long time, and is heavily based on math (use Fire on single targets because it does 180 damage! use Fire II on three or more targets because it’s 100 damage each or 300+!) and I’m just like, “Goddamnit I’m a WRITER! STOP THIS MADNESS! I JUST WANNA GET TO LEVEL 35!!!!”

… but, you know, overall… fun. I take breaks by reading books (currently in the middle of Rainn Wilson’s “The Bassoon King” which is okay, but I also have “Hyperbole and A Half” to get through, “Snow and Ashes” which is this YA/fantasy book I really wish I never started reading because it’s terrible but I’m forcing my way through it, and “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” which I’ve heard great things about).

I guess, in a way, my body hating me is good because it’s forcing me to slow down. We haven’t really had a weekend in about two months where nothing was going on. So sitting here just chilling has been beneficial.

It’s like Paul said to me yesterday, “Babe? Life with you? It’s good. Every day.”

I said, “Even on the bad ones?”

He said, “Even on the bad ones.”

If we’d been running around like headless chickens, maybe I never would have gotten that great quote which I am now repeating, YOU KNOW? I mean, how great is it that I have a boyfriend who says things to me IN REAL LIFE that some people only read about?

Sigh. He makes me happy, even if my body does not.

Have a good night, friends. I’m off to black mage things and read words and convince Paul we need to pick up Buffy for the 73rd time in our relationship. Be kind to yourselves.

 

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