Rummaging

Yesterday and today Mike and I held a rummage sale. I think that rummage sales are one of those things that always sounds like a great idea beforehand, but is less than stellar afterwards. We were pretty lax about advertising, and so as a result we only made about thirty bucks. And only six of those dollars were from things purchased by strangers - the rest were from friends who dropped by.

Ah well. Thirty bucks is thirty bucks, and it's less stuff cluttering up our place.

The next time we have a rummage sale, we'll advertise it better. There will be newspaper ads, internet ads, flyers, spam emails, telemarketing, and skywriting!

Either that or we'll just buy another sign at Ace and put it up a day ahead of time. Either way, it'll be better.

Defense, defense! (clap, clap, clap-clap-clap)

After recieving Liz's text messages this morning I was so tired of it that I called my dad for advice. We brainstormed for awhile, and eventually decided that I should send Liz a text message from my phone, but pretending to be my father. I told her that I was borrowing my daughter's phone temporarily, and not to send any more messages, since she couldn't be reached.

I'm not sure if it'll work. I hope it does. But at least it felt good to do something for a change, instead of just sitting back and taking her abuse.

Good Endings & Bad Starts

Yesterday was a pretty good day. I had some actual, much-needed social interaction when Ashley called me up and we went out for lunch. Afterwards we wandered around the city since I'm still getting my bearings, and I bought Mike's birthday present at the mall. It was a clearance-priced Roboraptor. Mike guessed what it was later that day, so I let him have it early. The cats' reactions to the thing were hilarious. Cider and Lucky wouldn't go near it, Edison kept creeping up on it to inspect it and jumping away, and poor Rusty just arched his back and bushed out his tail whenever it got near.

Later that night when we went to bed I found the Roboraptor standing in the middle of our bed. "Oh, he's sleeping on the bed just like the cats!" Mike whispered to me. I giggled.

I woke up this morning eager to go. We're having a big rummage sale and I was very happy to begin the process of getting some of the clutter out of the apartment. Unfortunately, once I picked up my cell phone my good mood evaporated. I had text messages.

See, on the 29th of June I sent an email to my bosses at the museum where Liz and I work, officially quitting. I actually blogged about Liz that day, about how even though we live in adjacent cities I wasn't going to let the possibility of us meeting out in public keep me from going out and exploring Milwaukee. I did have a hunch that I didn't mention, though...I was afraid that once I'd quit from the museum and Liz knew she'd never have an opportunity to bump into me there, she'd start her over-the-phone harrassment again. And she did. On the Fourth of July Liz sent me nine text messages. She told me that she'd lost respect for me, that I was never honest with anyone including myself, that my getting married was just giving into cultural pressure instead of doing what I truly wanted, and that I was the one who killed our friendship by not communicating with her properly. Also, so soon after calling me out for being dishonest, she made excuses for hiding her affair from me.

I was shaken and upset. But I thought that it was a one-time thing. I thought that maybe Liz had heard the news of my quitting for the first time and was blowing off steam. This morning I found out that I was wrong.

I had another four text messages. She told me how she was my friend because she regarded me as a charity case, how she'd been depressed too and had clung to me out of desparation, sympathy and pity. She said how much better and happier she was now.

It seems pretty mild when you read it here, but it's still not the greatest thing to hear first thing in the morning.

I'm not sure what to do. I can't block her number from my text messages without removing the whole service. And besides, I'm not sure that's a good idea. She's starting to establish this pattern of finding a new way to communicate with me when one way is blocked. She won't see me at the museum, so she text messages me. What if she can't communicate via text? What's next? Email? Phone calls? Visits? I think a restraining order is out of the question too. I mean, I can tell she's angry and wanting to hurt me, but she never threatens me overtly.

I have to do something. I just need to think of what. Because I'm not going to spend my life feeling dread every time my phone beeps to signal a new text message coming in, or looking over my shoulder to see if she's there.

Today got off to a bad start, but I'm going to make it end as good as yesterday.

What a day

Yesterday Dave asked me what the most interesting thing that I learned while studying was. I couldn’t quite decide, but one handy tidbit I picked up was an effective cure for mild constipation. Soak in a warm bath. It relaxes the muscles and makes it easier. I learned this when I read about a BDSM participant who had an unfortunate incident with a difficult-to-remove anal plug. Try it next time!

Today was a bad day because I lost my job. Well…actually, the loss of the job was the least traumatic part of the day. I went into work today hoping for a firing that would allow me to get out of my contract, that's how much I had grown to hate my job at the nursing home. To make a long story short, there was an incident with a patient, and even though it soon became clear that it wasn't my fault at all, during the interview they found out that I don't know CPR. Apparently CPR is a requirement to work there. They didn’t tell me or my staffing agency when I was hired that I needed to know it. In the end they didn’t blame me for my actions, but they did want me replaced on account of my CPR ignorance. I don’t care. The staffing agency that placed me there didn’t blame me at all and asked if I wanted to take a CPR course and then go back. I said no...right now I’d rather be poor and happy than flush and working there.

Of course, this does put me in a dicey financial position. Some of the bills are eased because of my cohabitation with Mike, but for some I’ll be dipping into the ol’ savings account. Suck.

So if anyone has some good moneymaking ideas, let me know. I’m not sure that a place like McDonald’s or Borders would hire me just until the school year begins, so I’ll be hitting Craigslist later in hopes of scraping up an odd job.

Man. Some days you shouldn’t even bother getting out of bed.

Ah well. At least I don’t have any anal plug problems.

Cat naps

napping3
Originally uploaded by Lucky Haskins.

Yesterday we let both my cats and Mike's cats run around together after a long period of having them separated. There was some hissing, but eventually they all got along to accomplish the one thing that matters most to cats - napping.

All except for Cider - when I took the picture, she was under the dresser.

Goodbye, furries!

Ay me. I'm beginning to become bored with the furries.

For those who don't know me well, for a long while now I've been fascinated by furries. I go through phases like that, although the furry phase has lated longer than most. Lots of people assumed that because I was so interested in reading furry comics and websites and blogs I was secretly furry, but that was never the case. I just wanted to learn.

I love learning about points of view that are different from mine. All of the bloggers I read are having experiences that, in some way or another, are very different than my own. What I find most fascinating are entire groups of people who share an idea that's completely out of my realm of understanding and experience. I go through phases where I learn everything I can about them. It's actually very interesting.

One of the first groups I learned about was sadomasochistic slaves. I was interested to find out how you could love someone who hits you all the time. I was also, at one point, infatuated with psychics since all of my experiences have been decidedly non-extrasensory. In grad school I was fascinated by transgendered individuals after writing a paper on transgendered voice therapy for a class. I've never felt out-of-place being a woman, and the lengths that trandsgendered people go to just to feel comfortable are amazing. I was breifly interested in cargo cults around that time too, and the desire to pierce my tongue lead me to learn all about body modification and the culture that surrounds it. Then I moved on to the furries.

Ah, the furries, who were a good source of learning for a long time now. I think that my interest lasted so long because there are so many types of furries out there. There's the regular furries, the lifestyle furries (who do all that they can to live as the animal they've chosen), the babyfurs, the macrofurs, the microfurs, the inflationists, the conjoined furries, the fursuiters, and so many more. I spent hours learning all that I could about them, but now I'm afraid that I've learned all there is to know.

Throughout all of my phases there was one continuing theme. Why. Why are you different than me? What happened to make us have such different viewpoints? I've often wished that a sociologist or a psychologist would study these groups, especially the furries, to illuminate why they're so different. After growing up in a small, small town where everyone was so similar - hell, most people were related - it's interesting to study all the ways that people can be different.

So now I'm without a topic. Lately I've been learning about polyamory because I have trouble understanding how you can love someone without having that insular, just-you-and-me feeling that comes with it, but I think I get it now. I need something else to learn about.

Any suggestions?

Holiday Weekend

I've always heard that once you get engaged and married, your life begins to grind to a halt. Unfortunately, judging by this weekend, it's been true. I gave up an opportunity to camp out and go whitewater rafting because I had to stay home with my cats and do housework. When Mike and I were dating we'd go places all the time, but lately we've just stayed home, either attempting to clean or just sitting around. It's really a testament to love that the situation is so pleasant. Addicting, even.

This week Mike's band has begun practicing in our basement, so earlier this week Mike suggested that I find somewhere else to go on Sunday afternoons. I was resentful at first that I was getting kicked out of my own house, but Mike made it clear that the recommendation was meant to spare me grief, not to convenience the band. I haven't been to a band practice since I played alto saxophone in my middle school's band, and if their practices were anything like ours it could get pretty annoying pretty fast. So this afternoon I decided to go to the laundromat.

It's been awhile since I've patronized a laundromat...since I was a senior in college, in fact. All of the other places I've lived have had a few washers and dryers in the complex. This place does too, but unfortunately the dryer is so inefficient that it takes three drying cycles to un-dampen our clothes, so the laundromat seemed like a better option.

The laundromat I went to was amazing - a perfect time capsule to about 1978. Even the two female patrons who were there when I showed up were wearing timelessly frumpy sweatsuits. The machines were rusty orange, the wood panelling was flamboyantly fake, and someone had set the laundromat's radio so that it was piping in music from a 1970s station. I hummed along to Gordon Lightfoot as I folded my socks. It was perfect.

Afterwards I came back home and saw that Mike's band hadn't even begun to practice, so I went to Starbucks and then wandered around the East Side. I knew where I was about 80% of the time, which isn't bad. The other 20% I was wandering a street that didn't seem too dangerous. On the way I passed a tattoo parlor, which desperately made me want to go get something done, either another piercing or a tattoo. I have to stop reading BME in my spare time.

Tonight Rusty and Cider met Edison. There was a minimum of batting at each other despite Edison's breaches of etiquitte (eating their food and not realizing that hissing means, "Don't sniff me!"). Tomorrow they'll meet Lucky.

So that was my weekend. Not exciting, or thrilling. But yeah, it's a testament to how much I love Mike that I thought it was pleasant.