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Sex, Death and 409 All Purpose Cleaner
Feb. 15th, 2011 09:46 amThe problem w/cleaning your house is that it’s a commitment. You have taken the pledge: As without, so within, and I want to be clean, orderly and structured! This necessitates approximately two hours of maintenance and upkeep every day on the cleaning front, since you’re the one who got stuck with the animals in the divorce, and you live with a 16 year old whose photo should illustrate the Wikipedia entry for slob.
Say I die at 80. That’s 15,330 hours of a meaningful relationship w/409, All Purpose Cleaner.
###
About half way through dinner last night, I realized I was sharing it with someone who packs a penis and that it was Valentine’s Day! Huh. Guy was Michael, the philosophy prof; food was overpriced and under-inspired, but we jabbered away quite companionably about the difference between narrative structure and other types of writing, the trials and tribulations of the freelancer’s life, teenage children and how to make MSWord Macros. Not particularly romantic but we shared a lot of laughs.
Am I attracted to him?
I dunno.
He is a lot shorter than me and whenever I think of having sex with him, I keep imagining him clamping on crampons and mounting me kind of as though I were a Swiss Alp.
###
B has been laying low the last few days. We generally call or text many times each day, but for the past three days he hasn’t communicated with me at all except when strictly necessary about RTT.
Of course, this is a good thing.
But I miss him. God damn it.
I expect he’s paranoid because I finally emailed the GF again, demanding a sit-down. We’re on for tomorrow. B doubtless is scared to death of how I will behave, quite justifiably so. I haven’t decided whether I’ll go for the brisk, no drama scenario or the psycho-Mrs. Danvers gambit starring me as Rebecca.
One thing about Michael – since he’s into astrology, he gets the Scorpio moon thing. “Sometimes you just want to put that screw driver in that hole and twist,” he laughs.
“I do,” I lament. “I know it’s wrong. But it’s so much fun!”
“My brother is another Aries with a Scorpio moon, so I’m hip. Also Herman –“ editor pal of Michael’s who has strong views on narrative structure in nonfiction and thus, had been a reoccurring motif in the evening’s conversation. “In fact, Herman was also born on April 11 – probably the same year as you.”
“So you have a lot of us in your life,” I said. “We’re providing valuable learning opportunities. I wonder what they are?”
“Sex and death, baby.”
“And taxes. Don’t forget taxes.”
“I did, actually,” Michael said. “That just reminded me. I’ve gotta start mine.”
Say I die at 80. That’s 15,330 hours of a meaningful relationship w/409, All Purpose Cleaner.
About half way through dinner last night, I realized I was sharing it with someone who packs a penis and that it was Valentine’s Day! Huh. Guy was Michael, the philosophy prof; food was overpriced and under-inspired, but we jabbered away quite companionably about the difference between narrative structure and other types of writing, the trials and tribulations of the freelancer’s life, teenage children and how to make MSWord Macros. Not particularly romantic but we shared a lot of laughs.
Am I attracted to him?
I dunno.
He is a lot shorter than me and whenever I think of having sex with him, I keep imagining him clamping on crampons and mounting me kind of as though I were a Swiss Alp.
B has been laying low the last few days. We generally call or text many times each day, but for the past three days he hasn’t communicated with me at all except when strictly necessary about RTT.
Of course, this is a good thing.
But I miss him. God damn it.
I expect he’s paranoid because I finally emailed the GF again, demanding a sit-down. We’re on for tomorrow. B doubtless is scared to death of how I will behave, quite justifiably so. I haven’t decided whether I’ll go for the brisk, no drama scenario or the psycho-Mrs. Danvers gambit starring me as Rebecca.
One thing about Michael – since he’s into astrology, he gets the Scorpio moon thing. “Sometimes you just want to put that screw driver in that hole and twist,” he laughs.
“I do,” I lament. “I know it’s wrong. But it’s so much fun!”
“My brother is another Aries with a Scorpio moon, so I’m hip. Also Herman –“ editor pal of Michael’s who has strong views on narrative structure in nonfiction and thus, had been a reoccurring motif in the evening’s conversation. “In fact, Herman was also born on April 11 – probably the same year as you.”
“So you have a lot of us in your life,” I said. “We’re providing valuable learning opportunities. I wonder what they are?”
“Sex and death, baby.”
“And taxes. Don’t forget taxes.”
“I did, actually,” Michael said. “That just reminded me. I’ve gotta start mine.”
