I am going through a really trashy stage. It's all about boozing it up. Yay, booze.
Today I got a phone call from my fresh ex. We don't talk so much any more. He asked me what I was doing, I'm all 'working, of course' (I was at work). We chatted for about 40 seconds. Then he went 'I've just done this really strange thing - I meant to call the other **** and I've called you instead [how embarassment!]. I've just realised who I"m talking to. So ... how are you going, anyway? You going to that opening tonight [blah blah blah]'
Needless to say, we didn't then have a lovely chat about life etc. I got the hell off the phone asap and felt depressed the rest of the day. Call me crazy, but I find the blase-ness really upsetting. I don't see the benefit of pretending everything's nice and neat and happy when it's actually ugly, traumatic and miserable. Much better just not to speak.
Had a nice night, though. If a little desperate. I still have sore forearms from ice skating on Monday ... it's a very positive injury. I wear it like an invisible bruisey badge of niceness.
Good Clean Fun.
Hear that, reader? When in doubt, take to the ice. Wear two pairs of socks though. And good gloves.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
>I don't see the benefit of pretending everything's nice
>and neat and happy when it's actually ugly, traumatic
>and miserable. Much better just not to speak.
Indeed..
Ice skating? Do you go ice skating often?
Not so much. About once every 15 years. Well, it used to be about once every six months but things have tapered off in the last 15 years or so.
It's fun. I can't have done it in maybe ten years.
Note to self: go ice skating one of these days
Post a Comment