Four-Day Weekend

It’s Friday afternoon, and I’ve got a major case of The Lazies. I’m doing work (well, not at the moment, because I’m writing in the blog, but for the most part I’m doing work!) but not with any zest. I usually like to throw myself into my work, because it makes the day fly by and I actually feel like I’ve accomplished something. But I’m off on Monday and Tuesday, which means that I’m just three and a half hours from a four-day weekend. The Lazies, they come to me.
I didn’t see Strutter last night, because she and I have been hanging out relentlessly and it means her dogs have been a little ignored. I wasn’t going to insist on seeing her, because I love her dogs, and they need their mama too. But I sat on the couch last night, watching Pirates of the Caribbean 3, wishing that her tiny form was cuddled up beside me so I could pet her. (That sounds kind of creepy, but I mean it in a really sweet way. Like stroking her hair and whatnot. Not like a child molester kind of pet.) I was fighting the urge to text message her and let her know I was thinking about her, and my phone beeped. She was texting me, and letting me know that she was missing me too. She has this uncanny ability to text or call just when I’m thinking about her. It’s creepy, but in a sweet way.
For the weekend, I really don’t have any tremendous plans. Originally I was going to go down to Augusta tonight, for the very last Spectral Erosa ever, and show DJ Triskyl some support. But that’s a long drive to make by myself, and I decided against it. (Strutter is fighting a head/chest cold, so she didn’t want to go along. But she confessed that she liked the music, and that scored some major points. Not that I’m keeping score anymore.) So instead, I asked Strutter to come by and watch a movie or something, and I’m planning on making chicken soup for her.
Tomorrow, Strutter and I are going to have our very first date. (Assuming she feels up to it.) That might sound a little weird since we just upgraded to “Relationship Status,” but I mean that we’re going to go out in public for dinner, and then probably go play putt-putt and hit balls in the batting cages or something fun like that. I think Phloxen and Mr. Phloxen (I need a new nickname for him. I’ll work on it.) might accompany us. If Strutter isn’t feeling up to it, I’ll just throw her on the couch and take care of her. (That sounds creepy, but I mean it in a sweet way.)
Sunday I’m helping The Bartender move some furniture. She recently shacked up with her boyfriend to live in sin, and I support this move by offering the services of my pick-up. But we’re going to be moving it during the Bears game. I wonder if Teddy will tape it for me.
Monday will be a day of purchasing champagne and liquor, and Monday night I’m going to Strutter’s house for New Year’s Eve. This will be the first New Year’s Eve that I’ve had a “steady” date for in over ten years. I’m pretty jazzed about it, considering how much I love New Year’s anyway.
Tuesday will be a recovery day, and I’m thinking Strutter and I will still be hanging out.
It’s a little scary how much I think about her. I’m not used to letting a girl get inside the walls this fast. There was a time, before the Hurt and the Guarding, when I was like this. I remember falling quickly. But I don’t remember it being like this. There’s this little tiny part of my brain that mumbles for me to slow down, to back off, to let things happen naturally. But the rest of my brain and, more importantly, my entire heart shut that little voice up and tell me that this IS happening naturally. On the other side, I think that Strutter guards her heart as well. I know that she’s falling for me just as quickly. (Or I’m just a terrible judge of a person’s emotions, which is possible.) Whatever the case, I’ve ignored my heart for a long time, and it’s kept me distant and single. It’s time to give him a chance again, and follow his lead.
(And, Jesus Christ, I’m writing about the girlfriend again. I’m sorry, Cap. I fully intended to make this a short-and-sweet statement of fact and leave all the lovesickness out. I guess this is a testament to just how much I do think about her.)

3 thoughts on “Four-Day Weekend”

  1. I wasn’t annoyed at all until I read “the girlfriend.” She’s a girl, not a couch. Okay, that sounded weird.
    She’s a woman, not an object. (And that sounded femi-nazi reverse sexist).
    Whatever. Say “my” girlfriend. Please. Or I’ll come to your house, drink your Crown Royal, and refuse to take your not-so-subtle hints to leave you two alone.
    Because I’m bitter like that. 😉

  2. Well, the phrase “my girlfriend” implies possession, and I don’t like the implication of that. Using “the girlfriend,” however, implies that there is only one, and no other girlfriends exist. So I like the second meaning better.
    Although last night I referred to her as “my pet,” and she seemed to be okay with that title. (Please don’t hit me, Strutter!)

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