CPR asked me if I was concerned that CJ may read my blog.
“Well I didn’t tell him I write one so if he does, he Googled me so it is his own damn fault.”
At least that is my memory or my response, though SE may correct this. She is The Corrector. It is her particular brand of super power. She roams the streets, correcting me when I tell stories wrong, which apparently is every day and every story. Rather than finding this annoying, it is actually endearing. It means she is paying attention.
I have a busy few weeks coming up. Starting tomorrow, with RF’s birthday surprise. He conspired with GZ, a mistake I realized too late. I wish he had chosen a friend who was bad at secret keeping. RF himself is playing this very close to the chest. I feel like it is easier for him to be evasive in Boston because he doesn’t get to experience my Death Glare that usually pulls the secrets out of his head.
Then it is LM’s Last Single Lady Lady’s Night (bachelorette party sounds lame) which leads into the wedding next week.
As soon as the wedding is over, I turn my attention to M.O.V.I.N.G. again. I’m very stressed out over this, so much so that I’m quite convinced I’m going to give myself hives. I have no idea where I am moving to and it is only 30 days away. Yikes. So it is quite possible I will be living under the Burnside Bridge and brushing my teeth and changing in the Family Restroom at work.
For all my joking, I don’t really want to be a hobo, the real kind that actually has no place to go.
The older I get, the more I turn into all the things I abhor.
Cougar, real hobo, mean girl.
No comments:
Post a Comment