My (Not So) Redneck Past Is Nipping At My Heels

It's probably getting monotonous to read (and probably why my readership has dropped off precipitously), but it's monotonous for me, so I'm sharing the wealth. My brain is mush. I don't know if it's this interminable winter or if I need more happy pills or if this is just how I'm going to be for the rest of my life. It better not be the last or I will do myself in.

Anyway.

Onward.

The dog situation has been reported to the landlady. And it's not a lab mix, it's a fucking Bull Mastiff. Do you know how big those dogs are? Fucking huge.

I was downstairs doing laundry yesterday and he (she?) was still down there, along with a massive pile of dog shit. The poor dog. He's tied up down there, too. It's just so sad. The landlady was very upset to hear about it - not only because of the floor damage but because she doesn't like the idea of having a dog and treating it that way. I'm thankful she thinks that way. Many landlords just wouldn't care.


That Canadian Boy I Married has started his new job and seems to like it, although he's even busier than he was before. It makes for some very lonely weeks. He's working until 7 every night, usually, and will be working most Saturdays, too. When he does finally get home, he crashes - which, by the way, can't possibly be normal. I mean, he gets up at 6:30, which is on the early side, but not the ass crack of dawn, by any means. And he's almost always asleep by 8 every night. That's a buttload of sleep. I don't understand how a guy his age (which is considerably younger than me) can be that tired all the time. It baffles me.


My mother was over yesterday. She is a demon knitter. She's made some adorable sweaters for my girls. Including this piece, which I love.


If the Bug would ever stop moving, I could get a better shot of it. It's adorable. It has matching socks. I can't even knit a straight line, so stuff like this impresses the hell out of me.

But this isn't about the sweater, even though it is too cute for words. It's about the knitting group she started at the library near her house. One of the women who joined is the mother of my high school boyfriend. Apparently she still has our junior prom picture hanging on her living room wall. I don't think I have a copy of my junior prom picture. It's a little weird knowing that my 16 year-old face is hanging on someone else's wall. It was also really, really strange to hear that Old Boyfriend's older brother was disappointed that Old Boyfriend and I didn't stay together. Apparently he really liked me and thought we would have been a great couple. Ummmm...ok. I don't even know what to say about that one. I was 16. We went out for a year or so and yes, he was a nice kid. But he was a kid. I was a kid. I can't even fathom marrying my high school boyfriend. I know people do it, I just can't imagine myself doing it.

There have been a rash of old boyfriend sightings and hearing abouts going on lately. It's kind of freaking me out. I literally ran into my old college boyfriend Dave one day, coming around the corner at a grocery store and bam, there he was. I stuttered and stammered and we talked for a few minutes and that was that. I was freaked out about that one for days. Dave was the one who got away and I still sometimes wonder "What if...?" about him. We had run into each other once before, when I was going thru my divorce in 1998. We stayed in touch and even hung out together a few times. I was kind of pining for him at the time, but he didn't seem interested, so I was content to stay just friends. When I met That Canadian Boy I Married, though, Dave got very upset with me and told me he didn't want to stay in touch any more because he couldn't stand to see me with someone else. Uh, ok. Maybe you could have said something earlier? *sigh* Men. Can't live with 'em, can't sell 'em for science experiments.


I think it's all the Old Boyfriend things that have me so bummed. I'm kind of feeling my age, I guess. And parts of my life haven't turned out the way I'd imagined they would when I was younger. I'm such a cliché.