…I sit writing, in Girlfriend’s bed that I helped pick out. She’s not here right now. I am drinking from her pretty blender bottle, enjoying her protein powder that tastes like a creamscicle. I prefer the one that tastes like fudge, and she knows this, but wanted me to give this one a try. It is good, but a little too acidic for my taste in the morning. This matters because my body is still complicated.
I have what I call “fuzzy tongue”, and I need to tell her this if we decide to swashbuckle tongues later on. But right now, in the quiet, alone time, mostly I am feeling it in my throat and lungs, and I know I will have to address it when I return home.
The pressure people are still pressuring me, as though I don’t give a shit and I sit around and eat bon-bons all day. I came to GF’s with my shoulders embedded into my ear canals, my back muscles tense, my ankle recently twisted while not yet fully recovered. I made what is kind of a sacrifice to the greater good, lending someone something that is worth money that I desperately need. I wanted a thank you. I didn’t get it. Instead, I got yelled at for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Something that typically happens when I am home.
I have had a few beers; one a day, really, and I have taken hot baths each day, and slowly my muscles are easing. I drink coffee, I eat well… yet, I have not resumed the application process. Lest you think I’m a slacker, I had been at it all day, every day since I’ve been back. I needed some time away. I guess I should really do some today.