That’s how inspired I am to write on Mondays. Yep. That’s what you’re gettin’.
Coffee, get to work. Dammit.
We had a very productive weekend, even though I didn’t run. (It was an eight-mile training run. Come on. I’m still healing from the 26 last week. And still fighting that cold. It was an easy call to stay in bed.)
But we did manage to move Lala into her new place, which is my old place. There. I’ll let you think about that for a second. (At dinner one night, we told Bethany that Lala was moving, and she said, “Where?” I said, triumphantly, “My place! Can you believe that?” She sat there for a while, as did Christy, and then said, “Wow!” It took me a minute to realize I hadn’t differentiated places, and that she wouldn’t automatically know that I meant the place I was vacating. They were troopers, though. “Wow!”)
What I didn’t realize earlier, though, was how WEIRD it would be moving her in to the place I had just left. For her housewarming present, I got her the best present of all: Movers. She thinks I’m the bee’s knees for it. In reality (shhh, don’t tell her), I was just lazy. It’s definitely a girlfriend’s job to help move, and I couldn’t bear to lift another box. (There are only two real unavoidable jobs in Girlfriend Land: Moving, and airport runs. All other jobs are negotiable.)
So the movers arrive (at seven pm, instead of one, ouch) and the same two guys that moved me out, moved her in. They were a little surprised, I think. They remembered my desk. Then her apartment with its red and yellow walls filled up with her things, and suddenly, it wasn’t my place anymore. It was like all those boxes and towels and bedding and musical instruments were so imbued with her her-ness that my me-ness didn’t stick around. I’m glad about that, too. I had wondered if I would feel like she was staying at “my place.” But nope. I took a shower there, and there was this moment of complete brain-disconnect when I was standing there, and I knew the shower, knew how to work the fiddly handles, but I didn’t really recognize it, since it was Lala’s new house.
I can’t quite explain it. Huh.
I was going to say more, about how well the cats and dogs did last night, and about how I had a lovely little knitting afternoon yesterday, for the first time ever in my new home, watching the Amazing Race, but I just got a call from my gay porn-star boyfriend that I met years ago in Venice on a boat. He’s in town with his new man, and he’s now out of the industry (to many men’s sorrow) and living in Miami Beach, and I have to hear ALL about it.
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