Instead of writing about my wet run this morning through a spring taking it's SWEET TIME to arrive, to the point where I think my hair grows faster than the snow is melting, and instead of telling you about that time (yesterday) when PJ forgot that he was supposed to spend the day with me so I wound up alone for too long and got into the home movies and oh just FAIL already Bridget, you stupid, drippy, unpredictable sentimentalist, I'm going to do something different.
(For the record, PJ did not actually forget to hang out with me. His email said ten and I assumed he meant ten in the morning, not ten at night. I never clarified and happily sent Lochlan off thinking PJ would arrive any minute. I wound up spending most of the afternoon at August's office and then PJ came and got me and by eight last night I had a whole collection of men hanging out in the living room watching home movies. Which made it far less difficult in the end.)
Now, let's move on.
It's Friday.
It's the vernal equinox, which means the sun will cross the equator, day and night are suddenly the same length and this marks the official end of my seventh winter here. One small step for Bridget, one giant leap for the rest of you who have to listen to her complain.
It's above freezing. Did I mention spring is coming?
Seriously. It's just hard to get past that part.
Tonight is the very last episode of Battlestar Galactica. Did I mention the winters here are long and cold and the boys have officially hooked me on all kinds of things I couldn't stand before. I laugh every single time someone says "frack!". Did I mention I'm also looking forward to the Tron sequel?
Did I mention my birthday is forty-six days away and the boys say I'm just finally getting cooler as I get older? Did I mention they're all huge liars and cringing at the thought of me walking around repeating the number of years I am old in total disbelief, wondering how I got to this place when my brain is forever seventeen years old? The hype is unbelievable this year. I do unbirthdays. I am worried now.
Tonight we're going to have something without vegetables for dinner. Because we can.
Tonight I'll listen to music that is attached to no one and brings forth no memories.
Today I noticed my ponytail does what it used to do and it made me feel like me again.
Today I noticed that black nailpolish has incredibly short wear time, even though for once I put it on myself and used topcoat and everything and still chipped all to rock-club junkie hell within twelve hours.
Today I noticed I'm singing along with the stereo again.
Today I turned down a lunch date from Satan and accepted one from Jesus (Sam).
Today I will vaccume the living room. I'm a thirty-something-year-old writer who can't spell that word for the machine that sucks lint out of my lovely Turkish rug. Fuck it. Some things can't be helped.
Today I'll have the last cream soda freezie from the freezer. That leaves all the orange and the coconut.
It's a good day. A surprisingly damn good day.
This has nothing to do with the once-rumored now-confirmed phone call scheduled for tonight from Ben. I just hope he doesn't call during Battlestar Galactica.
Oh my God, I'm kidding. Geez, lighten up.
