Pumpkin Carriages

Possible Boy's best friend came to town for Columbus Day weekend. Possible Boy's best friend brought his wife, 11-year-old step-daughter, and 2-year-old daughter. Tonight, I went over to Possible Boy's new apartment and we all carved pumpkins together with my copy of Nightmare Before Christmas playing in the background.

Possible Boy didn't invite Neighbor Guy and the two of them are being weird and both trying to distance themselves from one another. I felt guilty, since Neighbor Guy is lonely and wanted to spend every possible moment this weekend with me. I didn't think I could handle that much Neighbor Guy and I've been in a Whythefuckisitsuddenlyfall funk anyway. Neighbor Guy would have loved family pumpkin carving, or at least the concept of being included. I feel bad for excluding him. It wasn't really my place, but once I was at Possible Boy's apartment I was too twisted dumb to say or suggest anything.

We had a wonderful time. Really. Possible Boy and I shared a pumpkin. There are now four fabulous jackolanterns glowing in his kitchen window. The 11-year-old is my new bff. She invited me to stay over and hang out before she realized I was going with the menfolk to the bar.

Then I went to the bar. Possible Boy's best friend and I ended up in a conversation about the universe. It was awesome. We didn't have to agree, but at least we followed one another all over the physiasophical playground. I needed that. I've come unhinged lately, and even if I'm still swinging around in the breeze at least I got to play a real match of jello tennis. Possible Boy went home at least an hour before his friend and I did.

I had a beer. I shouldn't have. I'm seeing my neurologist tomorrow, but I messed my meds up a bit in the past few days (refill timing and just being sub-consciously self-punishing and weird) so I didn't need to add beer to the equation. Beer make Annabell happy. Tonight make Annabell happy. Possible Boy is still a giant question mark and I'm still a little bit terrified of another possible Boy something brewing, but happy.

Why don't I have stuff-in-my-face-and-go-to-bed food?