What is it about Q-tips and cats?

In my old place, I had a drawer in which Q-tips lived.

In my new place, the Q-tips were relegated to a small glass container that sat on a shelf just above the toilet.

That is, until I knocked over the glass container and had to spend some quality time vacuuming the little shards off of the tiled floor.

And now the Q-tips are roaming free, and if I don't put them away, I come home to Q-tips strewn around the apartment, cotton-batteny goodness stretched out as far as possible.

I've heard that other kitties like Q-tips too. They seem to be great toys.

But, why?

Dinner with D

Dinner last night with D was great.

He picked me up at just after 6 and we headed straight to an Italian restaurant near my place without delay. If I would have put more thought into the whole 'what to eat' situation, I would have suggested we drive AWAY from the center of the city, but by the time I paid attention, we were long headed TOWARDS the center.

The restaurant was packed by the time we got there, even though it's only a Thursday evening. We ventured into the bar with our pager, and I pondered on which alcoholic beverage to order.

D ordered red wine, and after a bit of pondering, I ordered a Caesar.

When it arrived, it was garnished with a big stick of celery and a wee-plastic-sword kabob consisting of a pickled onion, three thin slices of pepperoni, and an olive. Sometimes the differences in garnish on a Caesar makes me want to set a goal of ordering Ceasars at every restaurant I come across, just to see what THEY garnish it with.

After about 20 minutes of chatting about life and recent events and our immediate plans for the next few days, our pager lit up and our hostess showed us to a table in the corner.

When we sat down, I took a quick glance over the food menus (for some reason, there were two, so I concentrated on the one with the least number of copywritten and trademarked components mentioned) and then moved my attention to the drinks menu.

Such pretty pictures on the drinks and dessert menu's...

I decided on a "girly drink" - a cherry-and-pineapple-juice-with-bubbling-wine drink.

And then I turned to D and told him I was glad he wasn't into "girly drinks" himself. Or "chick flicks". Maybe I'm just a snob, but I always felt a little creeped out by the fact that my Ex loved both girly drinks and chick flicks MUCH more than I ever did. I mean, maybe if I were more of a "girly girl" I wouldn't have noticed it so much, but I'm so not anywhere near being a girly girl.

As often happens when I'm with D, our conversations turned to relationships and love. He's been a bit of a sounding board over the past 6-9 months when it comes to me trying to understand my wants, needs, and limitations, and he appreciates being able to speak openly with me about his own feelings of love and admiration.

Often, however, I'm reminded of how very different the two of us are - while we're good friends and are interested in each other's lives and he's been a solid emotional supporter during a very difficult time, we've got very little in common. Certainly, if the stars were lined up differently and we were able to make a "go" of something more than loving friendship, it would end in a very nasty, ugly way.

Or maybe in a passive-aggressive way, since that's more my nature.

At any rate, I've decided that when I do begin to consider dating again, a guy who is obviously feeling serious heat for my best girlfriend is going to be shown the door. There is, after all, such thing as too much reality in a physical or verbal sense.

Somebody Loves Me

I'm a fortunate woman, in that I am regularly reminded that I am loved from many angles of my life.

I have great parents who not only treat me like an adult - they started the peer-level discussions when I was in my early 20's. Plus, they're still together and getting along and have recently passed 45(!) years together.

I have siblings with whom I always feel at home, even if we haven't talked for a long time since I'm shitty at reaching out.

I have nephews that treat me like gold despite the fact that I'm shitty at responding, reaching out or even acknowledging birthdays. Which reminds me, I have a hand-written letter to respond to...

I have two ... "best" friends, S (female) and D (male). Which I guess is just my way of saying they're in my innermost circle of contact; they know the "real me" the best.

Tomorrow night, S will be coming over and staying over for the night. Then, after D and I get back from our Saturday morning workout, we'll be packing up S's futon and helping her bring it back to her new house down the street.

Tonight, however, D is taking me out for dinner. It'll be low-key, because I'm a low-key kinda girl, but it'll be nice to get out and spend the time with my friend.

Making Friends The Painful Way

After yesterday's hand-scalding experience in the Office cafeteria, I've had a larger variety of people come to talk to me than I've had since I started here in September.

If I were more outgoing, I might actually use this as a way to spark up some kind of conversation that we could continue with as time moves forward.

As it stands, I'm a consultant here, with a very limited job scope and very limited interaction with the rest of the folks working here.

And days like today, when 3 months of software updates get rolled live and email notifications are activated without the mail server maintenance crew being made aware ahead of time, and words like "doing XYZ without consulting ABC group is irresponsible" are bandied around in email . . . I'm glad I'm "just a consultant".

This Stuff Is Just For Me

Okay, I got some stuff done last night after being pathetically lethargic and playing entirely too many video games for the last week and a half or two.

After washing two loads of dishes and making room on the kitchen counter, I went out and bought groceries on my own for the first time in a long, long time. Not only on my own but just for me. For the first time, I bought chicken thighs instead of chicken breasts - I have no personal preference but when S (the roommate who just moved in with her fiancee) moved in with us years ago we moved away from thighs because S has some pecularities, and one is that she doesn't like dark chicken meat.

But, I bought it last night because on a per-pound basis, thighs are way cheaper than breasts, and with how I use them in my cooking (cut up, cubed, marinated, etc), I wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyway. At least that's the theory. We'll see if it's true after all of these years of chicken breasts and no thighs.

I took this opportunity to "experiment" in my shopping, as well - brands that S, who always went shopping with me, would skip over for whatever reason. A new brand of laundry detergent. Raspberry-smelling shaving gel.

I also pondered as I walked in silence, wondering how many days I could go without having to actually talk to anyone, now that I live alone. I remember once years ago when I was single before, not talking until mid-afternoon one day and then realizing at that point that my vocal chords were strained in some way and my voice was nothing more than a croak. It was a weird revelation at the time, for some reason.

I guess the difference now is that I own pets. Even if I don't talk to humans, I'll still talk to the furry creatures that greet me with such love.

That's not to say that there aren't humans that greet me with great love, but I'll get into that later.

Scalding myself on coffee, pondering life.

This morning wasn't a bad one, really, although scalding my hand with a hot cup of coffee in the office cafeteria wasn't all that fun.

The bus ride in to work was smooth, but looked like it was about to get snarled rather shortly as a semi trailer misjudged a turn and took down a traffic light on a main route into the business section of the city just minutes before we arrived at that light. We got through okay, but when I switched buses, I saw the police heading that way, and I knew traffic was about to slow down severely for a little while.

I was glad I didn't laze around and decide to go in a few minutes late today, because it would have been a few more minutes than I had been initally prepared to lose out of my hourly-paid pay.

Mornings are quiet these days, and there's no competition for the bathroom anymore which is very nice. I had a roommate over the past few months, but she and her fiancee have moved into a house, which leaves the entire two-bedroom apartment to myself and my cats. It hasn't been long enough for me to feel truly lonely yet, although I miss my friend's general company and the stories we'd share about our days when I sit here alone.

I've been alone here for under two weeks, but from outside looking in, I've been in a pretty sorry state in the past two weeks:

Eating irregularly.
Did the first load of dishes in a week today.
Washed bare necessities of clothes on the weekend.
Disaster-Area bedroom.
Disaster-Area living room with way too much cat hair.
Have opened the fridge 90% for a can of Coke (empty cans piled around computer), 10% for actual food.
Am afraid of what is actually IN said fridge.

I'm doing these things partially because I am depressed, but mostly because I'm exercising a freedom I haven't had in over nine years - to leave my entire abode in a state of disarray without impacting anyone else's life but my own.

My cats are very happy with the current arrangement, caring not of the mess. The human is home with them regularly and pets them, feeds them, brushes them and makes loving coo-ing noises towards them. And for the first time in nine years, they've got access to the human AT NIGHT, too. They're very excited when morning comes and the human awakes, as much cuddling and coo-ing ensues.

I have a lot of things to get caught up on after this week-and-a-half of steadfastly doing nothing.

And since I'm on my own for the first time in nine years, I've got a lot more to do than I've HAD to do for quite a while. It's all up to me now.

Finally.

Single again, but definitely NOT LOOKING

I've been reading the This Fish Needs a Bicycle blog off and on while at work, and was inspired by the long history of this woman's life to start my own Singles Life blog.

I'm single right now, and have been for a mere three months. Actually, if you count from when my now-ex-of-9-years made the announcement that he'd officially come to the conclusion that "we'd be better off as friends", I've been single for seven months.

Our breakup was a pretty decent one compared to most - with no kids or illnesses to make the transition more difficult, we just pretty much went seperate ways. The house is about to be sold and my Ex really *does* want to 'be friends' but I'm not "there", myself.

In truth, I don't really "want" much these days. Depressed, you could say... or just adjusting to a new life and a new future, I guess.

I'm glad to say, however, that I have two excellent friends who have helped me a lot during this difficult life transition. Friends who were there before the break-up became official, when the negative relationship energy was beginning to crest and I needed an escape. Friends who then held me and told me wonderful things as I cried in a confused haze of a revoked future.

These days, I live in a two-bedroom apartment with two cats. I have a decent job at a company that treats me well and pays me well, too. My family is well, and I have friends who love me to the point of dropping everything if I need help RIGHT NOW. I'm relatively fit and have been working out 2-4x a week for enough years that it's a habit, and the social group I work out with holds me in high regard.

Life is pretty decent when spelled out this way.

But then again, despite all of that, I'm extremely cynical about Long Term Relationships, commitment, love, and even attraction.

I guess this is normal after the demise of a long term relationship in which life-long commitment was touted over and over, only to be discarded when he finally came to terms with the fact that I'm not his little Dollie, able to be manipulated and forced into any scenario its owner sees fit.

I'd like to say I'm not bitter, but that'd be a lie, obviously. It's this reason I have not put one foot forward towards dating or any of the pre-dating rituals. I know I need time to heal these gouging injuries.

I wouldn't be surprised, however, if my ex is engaged or even married by the time our one-year physical seperation date arrives in the fall of 2007. I don't expect he'll necessarily end up in a happy relationship but happiness has never been one of his life goals.