Pee Day Ramble

Today was Pee Day. My dog christened it by peeing all over the back porch stairs (that don't get rained on so I had to clean them on my hands and knees, which was just awesome for my dizzy bullshit). I then spent the day peeing into a jug and cleaning my hellaciously messy life and feeling like crap and sleeping. It started raining this evening, so that may have contributed to why I felt so awful all day, but it made cleaning the house harder. Still, I almost completely unearthed the futon in my office/spare bedroom/world's biggest closet; I just have to figure out what I'm doing with all of the alphabet blocks still spread out in order across the bedspread. Then there's the rest of the room, which is coming along (I found a good chunk of the floor) but remains more closet than living space. We're having a condo-wide yard sale on the 29th and it would be so much more convenient if it were, say, last weekend and all the extra shit in my life already disappeared, replaced by money, but no such luck. Instead, I have to try to clean with the sale in mind, organizing things enough that next week is somewhat easier and I don't spend the entire time trying to re-sort everything all over again.

I looked up the weather for the wedding and it's going to be a high of 60 degrees. This means I have to figure out my coat options, which should be no big deal but at the moment feels like one. more. thing. I'm way too nervous about this wedding, or, more accurately, seeing people at this wedding. I don't know how I'm going to get along with the people I haven't spoken to in years who were once my closest friends, and it terrifies me. They used to mean so much and I'm not sure how to take our relationships, past or present, and I'm trying to be as optimistic about it as possible but now that I can't just get shitfaced and have everyone declare everything happy and fine (since I still can't drink) I'm not sure anymore how I most hope things will turn out (a sober mutual declaration of "All is forgiven, all bad is forgotten, we're cool" is a hell of a lot harder and less socially acceptable somehow), I'm not sure what the best possible outcome would be. Without knowing what to wish for, I have trouble calming myself down with optimistic happy thoughts. But the wedding itself should be my happy thought. My friend who's getting married deserves to be happy so. much. And I'm now driving up with Birdie, which means two hours of quality Birdie time I didn't think I'd have. That's a big happy thought. I'm just being Captain Negativity and dwelling on the parts that have me freaked out. I just don't know what people will think when they see me 20 lbs heavier, the only one single, and half-broken by migraines with some new weird malady that's got me peeing in jugs. At least I haven't lost my sense of humor. Or my depression. I had that when I knew them, and they loved me then. I have lost the chip on my shoulder, but I think I could use it right about now because it was a nice protective coating. Still, I have to remember that it's not like this weekend is about me anyway and everybody will be coming with their own shit, too. Maybe we're all fat now. Is it terrible that I kind of hope The Former Boy is fat? I do. I really do.

Enough rambling about that.

It's a little funny that I'm going to a wedding considering I spent Friday wanting to jump a married man. We're friends and we have a really fantastic time together, but he's married so my crushing is useless. Why do I torture myself?