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And the flowers from the geranium have inexplicably dwindled. She promises she had watered it adequately! Sometimes you just don't know why things happen, and guess. The laundry was being laundered and time to put in the dryer.
Rain had finally arrived, and she was madly there for it. Yesterday, she had wanted to put her head in an unlit gas oven. Today, she felt somewhat - well vastly - more hopeful. She wondered how much of it was hormones and how much was real. Her other big mission today - besides cleaning - was to get her tires upped and have her liquor larder restocked. It was going to be a rainy weekend, and her dude was probably coming. She always says probably because she's still so insecure that she likes giving him outs - although she would be slightly devastated if he didn't show. She had invited him for tonight, but he might come tomorrow.
It's so funny how diminishing returns prevail as you age. In the beginning of this particular column, she mentions looking in the mirror and hating her hair. Now, she would enjoy having that non-grey - non-thinning mane. She had no idea what she had when she had it - or rather she expected other people to constantly validate her and give her golden tickets. It was a product of a silly youth.
She had never been the type to slap on a sexy dress and go play billiards. She was not very good at displaying her wares because she suspected she wasn't all that. She thought constantly about her hair, but it was really her body that held the true allure - or rather a body.
The only reason she displayed any degree of contentment was because she was going to have company. Parts of her still got nervous on what to say - how to entertain; however, what did other people do? hike? play cards? tour the city? She figured it was all about eating and drinking. She kind of wished this one put more time into daytime sex, but she was also grateful she wasn't just an object of lust. That had sucked a bit.
She would feel her face for the embedded wrinkles she could do nothing about, and she planned for how she would feel and what she would do when this one decided "you ain't for me chica." She suspected that he was always intrigued when she had ambition and could do stuff. She wanted to blast the Eliot smith song that skewed her: "dude remember, 'the things you'll do - you won't but you might.'" So, they were going to drink up, but first she had to buy the drink. The problem with numbing agents was that if bought too prematurely, she often consumed them all solo.
Most importantly, she knew he enjoyed that she - by the virtue of her existence - made things easier for him. Things cost less when shared. He had mentioned renting his house out, and she had wondered if they would ever cohabitate. What a fucking huge step!
Analyzing the last time she had embarked on cohabitation with #2: she had cried like a stuck pig and thought she was making the hugest mistake when she moved in with Andrew. He had kids, and she was adamant that she wasn't going to be "daddy's tawdry girlfriend", so that meant marriage. She also knew that she couldn't put him off forever like she had wanted to - just having him on the side and being the time-killing compliment machine.
What weighed on her mind the most this morning was the tires. It made no sense, but the hardest thing to her seemed the "hey, do you mind putting air in my tires" and all the vulnerability. She had almost bought a $100 air compressor thing so she wouldn't have to deal with it, but again - it was on her. She hated asking for anything.
The garbage truck was coming...
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