I've been sleeping with my dogs again, for the first time since September. It's lovely, and also awful. I forgot how they get right on top of me, so I can't move my legs, ever, or roll over. But there is nothing better than when Tallulah rests her chin on your head and sighs, "Hmmmmmmmmm."
We definitely have a place to move to, probably this weekend. I can stay with my friend Kaye till then, so tomorrow that's where I'll go. I'll leave the pets here even though Kaye said bring 'em. It's only three days, and she has an ancient cat I do not wish to upset.
In the meantime, having a blog and having a breakup is both good and awful, like sleeping with dogs. You've sent so many encouraging notes and stuff, and it's nice to know people are concerned at a time when I feel like tying myself to some railroad tracks. Which is not possible because if I were tied up, how could I tie anything?
But then there's the awful part, most of it on the Pie on the Face page on Facebook. Like the people who clearly just want to get the popcorn and hear every dirty detail. Or the Ned bashers, even though I expressly asked that we not do that. It happened with Marvin, too, after our marriage ended. And neither of them are bad people! Nor am I a flawless person, as we all know. I still love Ned even though we're through, and really, it doesn't help to turn him into a monster. None of you know everything, and I've been no basket of fruit in this relationship, either.
I've had friends make this all about them. I've had friends just email to ask, "What happened?" instead of "Wow, how are you doing?". I've been blamed for not leaving sooner. I've been told, "Oh, he never cared for you anyway. I could always tell." (I was told that by someone who's never met us.)
I guess we could all write a book about ridiculous ways people treat us in times of trouble. I have a friend who miscarried, and the shit people said to her would make your mouth permanently hang open.
But I've had nice things happen, too. My friend Alex at work make me a breakup kit:
And I've had some talks with good friends, who have problems of their own, but still cared about me.
The Poet and her plaid. God, that coat looks warm. All my coats are for looks and dreadfully thin. Hey, Poet, why don't you write me a nice breakup poem? That'd cushion the blow, and then I'd be famous forever because I'd be the subject of one of your poems. I don't believe I've ever seen a breakup poem in your lexicon. I'm expanding your horizons!
The Naughty Pro's mom died suddenly last week, so we both had a lot to talk about. I hadn't really realized how many jaunty hats he owns till I was there and saw 848483 of them hanging in his entryway. Not any personal entryways on his body, I mean like he has one of those cool wooden chair things with a mirror and hangers. What are those called? I always wanted one of those. Step One: Get an entryway.
Anyway. The only good news other than having a place to move to, is that this has been an excellent weight-loss plan. A woman at work who is from New York found one place here that serves an excellent bagel, and she brought me one, and it was so good I ate it. Only thing I've eaten since Saturday. Hang on, lemme go weigh myself! Exciting...
OHMYGOD! FIVE POUNDS!!!! Exciting.
Okay, I have to go.
Petite-ly,
June
P.S. I forgot to tell you that I spoke to my good friend Hulk last night. "I just want someone funny, smart and LOYAL," I told him. Yeah, he said. There was a pause. "Well, what traits are YOU looking for in someone?" I asked Hulk.
"Hmmmm. ...Big bazoombas," he said.
And that is why I also make friends with women.
