Some days you just need to run away. Today was one of those days. I spent the morning hiking through the park conveniently between myself and the blood drive where I needed to go (I couldn't donate anyway this time because I'm still on antibiotics-- I just blew off the appointment because Schenley was gorgeous and Phipps called out for me to stop by), then driving out into the country. It was a good day to ramble. The radio cooperated, with lots of 90s/ early 00s (I haven't listened to Dirty Vegas in ages!) and oldies to accompany with my crappy voice. Poor jeepzilla is not happy that it's 80-something. Poor jeepzilla needs a radiator. But still it goes, and every time I arrive safe and sound I pat the dash. That'll do, jeep. That'll do.
Yes, really. Or "Good job jeep."
Now I'm exhausted. Full of grilled chicken and the most delicious fresh asparagus (nice and thin, very tender) and home again with DamnCat and FatCat, both of which are acting out because TheHuman had the temerity to leave them alone. Heaven forfend! DamnCat is actually half on the chair, half on top of my backpack, and glaring at me for daring to not throw myself at her tiny paws in supplication. FatCat just demolished the fourth out of the six drawers in my dresser. Can kids be any worse than the brats (who are now SociopathCat and NutjobCat)?
Kids. Yeah, I guess once I graduate... and get a job... maybe then I'll dip another toe into the dating pool. We'll see. I'm tired of guys who lie, guys who use you to work out their issues from their exes, guys who use you to cheat on their alleged exes, guys who are intimidated by my education, guys who feel hopelessly emasculated when they see jeepzilla is about five times as big as their vehicle, short guys with Napoleon complexes, non-drinkers that suggest meeting up at brewhouses, guys who drink out of flasks, guys who think that rolling chicken in Cheez-it crumbs is the height of culinary sophistication, guys who yell at you on a first date (then wonder why their "debating" doesn't get you hot), guys who literally do not own more than five books-- including the manual for their computer, guys who cannot accept any disagreement (even a preference for tea over coffee), guys who tell me that I'm a terrible Catholic-- not for supporting gay marriage or being pro-choice, mind you, but for thinking there should be female and married priests. Really, I know I'm far from perfect, but can you blame me for being just so tired of it all?
Sometimes I wonder what might have been, were certain things a little different. If only I had been single when I met that one person, or if this or that didn't happen. I think we all do that kind of thing. There's one in particular... but it doesn't matter. Years too late now. I hope that they're happy, but I refuse to give in to temptation and google them or look them up on Facebook to find out. Besides, I am, as La Mère has observed, disturbingly independent. I do not need a boyfriend or spouse to make me whole and happy. If anything, being attached held me back in the past. Someday, I'll meet someone who reads as much as I do and can obsessively follows the NFL, with a diverse palate and an appreciation of cult film-- who also lets me pick the music we listen to in the car half of the time. I've realized that radio/ music hogs are a major peeve. But I'm hardly suffering for want of a significant other.
Ah well. I am so very tired, but there are miles to go before I sleep.