mr. monkey is here. this is making me see that he really is some sort of anti-depressant in human form, since i'm only now FINALLY realising that each time i leave him, i fall into deep depression. perhaps i ought to stop leaving him.
here's the thing: he wants me to come back. he misses me. he wants me there BUT he wants me to prove myself first (to the office, sure, but to myself predominantly) and the very possibility of going back to texas, while not at the top of my hurrah-list, is making me rethink my definition of home. because, sure, edmonton is home, but you know what is home most of all? mr. monkey. i bet y'all knew that already! i bet y'all were sitting there in your various arm chairs looking at my life choices, shaking your heads, and saying, tsk, tsk, is it really such a good idea to leave your man behind when you actually super-like him? my mom recently told me that for a person with depressive tendencies i seem to make a lot of life choices specifically designed to make my life harder. she's got a point.
granted, i was supposed to be the avant garde, the scouting mission, the one sent to prepare the way, all john the baptist like, but now that mr. monkey's horrid boss is no more, he is suddenly sleeping and enjoying work and not thinking about coming back right away at all. sure, who knows? with the inflamed orange anal gland in power in the US things might get all sorts of interesting (shudder) but for now, he's happy.
WRITTEN THE NEXT DAY OR TWO DAYS LATER, WHO KNOWS, DOES'T REALLY MATTER, OR (AS MY BOSS-FRIEND SAYS TO
he's flying out tomorrow morning and i've been bawling my eyes out like a crazy person, complete with snot bubbles and strange guttural howling noises and wheezing because i have no voice (see below) and here's the kicker: i've been suffering from some sort of respiratory infection that has me hacking out my phlegmy lungs, but in the last 2 days i've developed increasingly sharp pain in my chest and, because decisions are HARD, i'm having this super awesome wish that maybe it's a heart attack (hey! it could happen!) and if it is, then i won't have to go to work and i'll have a most excellent excuse to go be with mr. monkey while i recuperate! so this is where i'm at, my poultries, wishing for a heart attack, or trying to figure out what exactly a nervous breakdown might look like, because i seem to be too highly functioning for that, unless you count all the crying all the time, (although i do seem to manage to keep that outside of the 9-5).
ah, fuck. look, people, don't worry about it. or, you know, worry about it as much as you wish, but writing here is a strange and free therapy that i engage in, and i know i've been dumping a lot on you lately (worry not! i have a possibly funny post about toilet paper in the works! the chortles never stop here!) so if you're fresh out of words of sympathy etc. don't fret about it. just do like you do on zhoen's blog and drop me a stone (o) to let me know you're here, but no need to try and make me feel better because i have just recently added another pretty pill to my repertoire (a purple round one to go with the pink square one! hurray for pretty colours!) so hopefully that shit kicks in in a few days. hell, who knows, i might stop caring so deeply and thoroughly that i'll just stay here in this big shiny empty echoing snapping house, all by myself, and continue to go work for someone who, i'm fairly certain, has not yet said one positive thing to me about me or my work, and keep doing this corporate thing that i am evidently utterly unsuited for.
anyone wanna start a commune or something? i'm SO damn good at escape fantasies! if only one could get paid for that shit.