Michael C. Shaw, I have your cell phone

I have your cell phone. Your little nokia reminds me of my first cell phone which I received via mail when I arrived in San Francisco in 2002 for $35.00. I don’t know why your cell phone was on my living room table when I returned from San Luis Obispo, but there it was, gray and silver and all sorts of weathered. I don’t know who you are, but your cell phone is in my house.

Nanowrimo has started 39 minutes ago. I haven’t written a word of it. Setch and Jesse just left my house and I scarfed down two more cupcakes. I’m sick with sugar. I let things slide today. I’ve eaten so poorly today that I just need to get over it and be diligent tomorrow and maybe go to a yoga class.

It was nice to forget that Halloween existed this year. My brain has been full of to- do lists that at some point this afternoon, still holed up in the batcave in my pjs and wool socks, my brain imploded. Spamming the internet with my resume for jobs I’m overqualified for made feel oogy and a little weepy, which is ridiculous for sure. I just sniffled a little bit. I felt bratty and complainy, just wanting things to be easier. I wanted to throw a hissy fit complete with flailing limbs and high pitched screaming, like the sound a child makes when you pry them off of the McDonald’s Playland Fry Guy ride. I wanted my neighbors to know I was unhappy.

I’m glad that I can recognize this feeling and remember that I am an adult and I will not screech, in public or private. Not much one can do but suck it up, put on some clothes and grab something to eat because life goes on whether or not you’re feeling shitty. It was a good thing Josh called or I would have spent more time consuming week old butternut squash soup that may or may not be bad, contemplating my future career at Carl’s Jr.

I called my mom to wish her a happy birthday and par for the course the family was on their way over for dinner before they trek out to Atlantic City for birthday shenanigans (read: slot machine ridiculousness). When I hung up the phone I realized that I miss them.

The cranky passed and I swept up, took stock of what baking things I had and hopped into the shower to wash the stink of self loathing and road trip off of me. Setch and Jesse dropped by and we dished over drinks and cupcakes and now I’m exhausted, full of wine and cake and excited to crawl back into bed. It’s officially November and the temperature in my apartment has dropped accordingly. It’s time for fleece pants and thermals and placing Blinky on top of my feet to keep them warm at night.

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