Monday, February 27, 2006

Yes, Still Here

I've been neglecting you, and I'm sorry about that. The themes for this week were lack of sleep, plus pain, plus a certain amount of drama (some good, some not so much). The pain is primarily from the jammed fingers. The infected finger got better (and less hot) after about 36 hours of antibiotics, and it's nearly better now (and, yes, I'll take the last two days of my drugs, even though I missed a dose here and there). The jammed fingers, though, well, they're extremely swollen and sore first thing in the morning, and kind of purple around the knuckle; they loosen up somewhat by the middle of the day, but not completely, and I typically bang them around at work some. I haven't been taking painkillers for them because I thought ibuprofen on top of antibiotics would make my usually iron stomach absolutely revolt. When I'm done with the latter, though, I'll start taking some of the former. In general, I feel like I have paws rather than hands first thing in the morning.

The drama, well, the drama has had several sources. The good drama is that Craw finally got the offer he was negotiating. It's still going to be financially a bit tight around here, given the added expense of the studio apartment we're renting for his office space, but we're hoping to save money on gas (MUCH less driving each month, such that we can probably cut $200/month from our gas-and-tolls budget), he found a cheaper parking space (he's willing to street-park the car, but I remember how unpleasant that was and I've been resisting), and I should be able to contribute more than we originally expected. Because some of his pay comes in the form of an auto allowance, we should see more of it, i.e., we think it's taxed at a different rate than regular salary.

We also have about three months' overlap between him starting this new job and needing to decide whether to move from this apartment. We both hope we don't have to move (I cannot tell you how much I hate moving), but it's not a simple calculation. We'll see. It mostly comes down to how much you're willing to pay for what. Many people gasp at what we pay, but we have a 24-hour doorperson (who can sign for packages, for example, which is relevant for someone who orders things by mail as much as I do), and T-1 internet access, basic cable TV, and all utilities except electricity (about $25/month) are included in the rent. There are several grocery stores nearby (one is less than a block away), as well as several drugstores; the public transportation is close and frequent; and there are a ton of restaurants within walking distance. Moving itself is expensive--we have so much shit, we'd really have to hire movers. If we don't live in the new place for more than a year--say I really do manage to buy a building and start a business--then we really won't have saved much money at all. Clearly, the solution is to stay where we are and win the lottery.

And, of course, there's been other drama on top of all of the usual and common life stresses. I've been circumspect in this space about details, not least because other people are involved; Craw and I may be open about a lot of things, but our other partners, well, that's starting to tell more things about other people's business than they might perhaps want shared. But we're getting there, I think. It turns out, as with most things, communication is absolutely vital. It's also vital for people to be clear about their wants, and that is not Craw's strong suit: In his last marriage, actually saying what you wanted, out loud, meant you had given the other person ammunition and power--he or (more likely) she could withhold the thing you said you wanted, for example, or use it to extract some other concession. I will not, absolutely will not, play that game. In addition, I get extremely annoyed when someone won't tell me what he or she wants but expects me to know. I was forced to play that game with my mother and I will not do it ever again.

Another interesting aspect of my life these days is figuring out what to do with Mondays. Mondays are, functionally speaking, my Sundays, so I end up being torn between wanting to Get Things Done and wanting to fuck off all day, which is what I typically did on Sunday before. I find myself being more ambitious than I really have the motivation to complete, if that makes any sense. Today, for example, my list included laundry (done, but not put away, plus bed's not remade), take a shower (not done yet, but will be soon), some proofreading (started, but didn't expect to finish), get birthday presents for my nephew (not done, but I know what I'm going to get for him), wrap and mail said presents and something for Craw's new job, which means a trip to the post office (also not done, seeing as how an intermediary step is still incomplete). I didn't put a yoga class on the list but probably should have, and Craw and I will probably manage a dinner together tonight, perhaps preceded by a walk, which will be nice. (We usually go out on Sunday night, but he had a date and so I made one, too; he's more constrained at the moment, given the situation of one of his other partners, and this was a rare opportunity to play overnight.) Which isn't exactly a lazy Sunday, but I managed one of those yesterday; it's more like I've reversed Sunday and Saturday, in terms of activity expectations, i.e., Saturday is usually Chore Day, but I work on Saturday so that's been moved to Monday. But that means my day of rest actually precedes my chore day, and I've always been a save-the-best-for-last kind of person (I think some people do that, some go for the good stuff first, in the hope that the lima beans will somehow fall off the plate, and others mix the lima beans and the dessert, but I think that dilutes the pleasure of dessert way too much).

Who knew that time was so subjective?


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