So, life's interesting as always here in KP's corner. It's great, because I don't even have my first book written and I've already started on the content for the sequel! In my mind I am going to be very wealthy someday with the books I plan on writing. For the sake of making myself feel good after a long day, I'm going to say that counts for something.
Let's see...where to begin. This past weekend: my mom came to Beantown. Just writing that sentence launches a nervous twitch across my body. My mother. In Boston. 4 whole days of passive-aggressive bonding. And she was going to meet "J". The last time she met one of my boyfriends, the meeting (in a snapshot) entailed a spilled glass of wine (on the passenger's seat of a car), an embarrassing self-choreographed dance, a country song, and a now infamous line: "I am who I am". As much as I enjoy "J" and want him to be a part of everything that is "me", I wasn't sure I was ready for him to become familiar with any of the characters in the "Story of Nancy". But, nonetheless it was inevitable. The first meeting, at "J"'s apartment went well. His daughter was there, and everyone acted as normal as possible. It was wonderful. When we climbed into the car my mom's best friend immediately asks me: "what's wrong with him? He seems perfect. No man is that perfect - something must be wrong." Since she's a self-proclaimed man-hater, I decided to just be happy with my perfect "J" and expect that life will always be this good. I don't see a reason to think any other way...
The weekend continued. We went to lunch on Saturday with "J"'s friends from London, and then went to get pumpkins with his perfect little daughter. It was a wonderful afternoon, and mom participated without being overbearing or passive aggressive. A major (but not often experienced) success these days. After the orchard, mom, "K" and I headed north to Portsmouth and "J" headed out with his friends.
Because I didn't want to leave Ella at home with my crazy living situation, she had to come with us. Everywhere. That meant every hotel we stayed at, we had to stuff the poor little puppy into a bag and smuggle her in. By the end of mom's visit, she got so used to being put into a bag she would just climb in. So sad, really. But, she was a good sport, and got to see lots of new things. Important for any dog's existence.
All in all, the weekend was an extreme mix of emotions. Mostly I began freaking out when I realized my roommate was going to let a criminal live in our apartment with us. I, of course, am extremely uncomfortable with the fact that a man who goes around beating peoples' heads in with bats is going to be living with us. Or, rather, will be anywhere near me. I knew immediately that I needed to start looking for a new place to stay. And, after more than a year of instability and moving from place to place, this is the last thing I wanted.
Basically this past week has been filled with work, spending time with "J" and looking for rooms to sublet. The process can be grueling - trying to find a room with people you like, getting Ella back to Michigan, and figuring out where to stay in the interim...
So, more or less that's been the past couple of days. Always good. Always interesting. Always exciting. And my perfect boyfriend continues to be perfect. After my mom made a comment about my ugly feet, he said to me: even if we had terrible sex, I'd still love your feet. Now if that's not perfect, I don't know what is.
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