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More Babbling
19 February 2004 @ 8:27 a.m.
It is another dreary morning in the neighborhood. This unseasonably warm weather is making everything just damp and ugly. The beautiful snow is compacting and turning the nasty brown, paved roads have been scraped back down to the concrete, and the sky is a nasty dark gray color. Just dreary to match my mood.
My postcard was waiting in the box for me. I had Bubbles on the phone as I stuck my hand in yesterday night. Several magazines, two bills, and a single white postcard with the number 10 on it. Bubbles got hers yesterday too, she�s number 14. We know of at least 17 now, though only know the location of about six of them. Bubbles and I cried on the phone together as I padded through the slush back home. It felt so private standing in the dark, clutching my magazines and crying to my best friend.
The phone has become my new favorite technology. I hardly used the thing this school year other than calling for appointments and such. All communication for social reasons have been via e-mail and instant messaging as of late. These past few days I�ve had the little headset on my head from 5 p.m. until at least 11 p.m. Calls coming in and out to make the final arrangements for driving to the funeral, sending condolences to everyone, canceling appointments, and even ordering food in mass quantities. Bubbles and I made a comment last night of how we hadn�t actually spoken on the phone in about a month, but have not been off the phone for more than 6 hours since Monday night.
With this excess use of the phone, I am fully aware of how much I have begun to just babble to anyone who will listen. Yesterday�s entry here turned into just babbling about everything on my mind as it came � but that�s how I�ve been talking to people no matter who they are. Was on the phone with The Mother last night and apologized profusely for just yapping her ear off about nothing. That I don�t mean to but I can�t seem to find anything else to do. Apparently this is what happens to me when someone so close dies.
* * *
Chewba and I finally have our separate vehicles in working order. Definitely a blessing � until he spins his car out of control on the way home from work last night. So far nothing is wrong with the car, but it now leads me to believe that his vehicle is cursed. He�s never been in an accident with my car or anyone else�s that he�s borrowed � but he spins his car or is hit by someone all the time. He came over after work and explained what happened to me. I replied that we should drive the car off a cliff and take the insurance to buy a new non-possessed vehicle that actually fits his 6�4� frame. I don�t think he liked the idea.
Between his job hunt, the numerous play-off games, classes, his final project, car issues, money troubles, and his worry about my own health, Chewba has run himself fairly ragged. Last night he collapsed into the papasan chair, put his feet up, and just laid there for some time as he explained his evening to me. We go from talking about what kind of dog we want to get over lunch to discussing how I�m handling Kerby�s death just before bed. He�s so worried about me. . . We just held each other all night, knowing that when we wake, we�d still be just one lump under the blankets.
currently reading: only reading for the next few weeks will be articles and journals on international organizations
currently listening: Sneaker Pimps � Velvet Divorce (from Life Less Ordinary Soundtrack)
