I’m taking my first vacation in over a year, and my first entire week off in two.  I think it’s weird how I spent so much time doing nothing through high school and college, and all of a sudden, I looked up from my job and said, “Huh, might as well take a week off.”  And so I am, during my favorite month of the year, in my favorite place in the world…sort of.

Right now, I’m having a little guilt over taking the time off.  Since starting working outside of college, I’ve only taken one or two days off, never a week in a row.  But at the same time, it’s not as though I am gunning super hard towards my life passion and career and I simply haven’t had the time to take off.  I’m just using this time off as an excuse to get away from the grind, from my parents, and get “centered”, get some studying done for my Life and Health License, work on my resume for grad school, study for the GMAT, schedule my tests…

It does seem like I’m not taking much of a vacation, am I?

But really, I’m going to have nine days where I get to pick what I want to do.  I don’t have to wake up at a certain time to be somewhere at a certain time.  I can curse, and smoke, and laugh, and tell my jokes, and spend time with people who don’t always make me feel like I’m doing everything wrong.

So, I guess that’s why my vacation back to Ashland why I’m so looking forward to going.  I swore many times that I would never move there permanently, and that still stands.  But I think that I need the time in a place where I felt the most free to spend this precious (and what feels like stolen) time.  And I need it, because The Boy and I have had a series of rows based on this “quasi-togetherness” which I think is exacerbated by my frustration with my position in time and space.  I need to get back to where it was, when he and I were making day-to-day decisions about what we were going to do with ourselves.

But at the same time, I’m worried that I will be bitter and disillusioned when I have to come back: because I’m 24; been engaged for two years, no wedding in sight; bought a fucking couch with my fiancé who lives 70 miles away; have no idea what I want to be when I grow up; not sure how I’m going to pay my medical bills, move out, still eat; and I’m living with my parents.

Wait, why didn’t I want to go on this vacation?

My Hoopty

So, I’m sure you will remember my rant about my car getting keyed?  Yeah, well, in some places, it’s down to the metal, so I might never be able to get it fixed  non-professionally.  But I’m convinced now that my damn car is cursed.

Between having to replace the bearing joints twice in a year and having the radio hizzle when it rains, I’m getting to the point where I’m like, “To hell with this, I want a Civic anyway.”

The headlight blew out on it last night, so I drove home looking like a hillbilly.  But, the replacement bulb is one of those “blue light” bulbs…which isn’t going to match the replacement bulb I put in the other headlight about three months ago.  I bought two of the blue light bulbs, just in case, but my father discouraged me from replacing them both so they match.  At this stage of the game, I just shrug and let him win.  I’ll change the other one out later.

Until then, I’ll just enjoy my bi-chromatic hoopty.

Grocery List: Pick Up Memories

The wedding was nice, and The Boy and I traveled all up and down Ohio. I think the highlight of the trip was landing at Dear Friends’ house at midnight, staying for four cups of coffee and heading back to Ashland. I started my journey at 10:30 on Saturday morning, and didn’t stop moving until 5:00 the next morning.

It reminds me vaguely of the time I was still and art student, and one night in November in my last year of being an art student, The Boy picked me up from the studio at about 10:30 so that we could go grocery shopping. But, before we actually made it to the Kroger, we drove a big loop through the country to have dinner at Denny’s at about midnight and then go grocery shopping.

Our favorite time to go grocery shopping – when we actually got around to it – was very late at night in the 24-hour Kroger. We’d slowly wander around with the benefit of no one there, and the stock kids quietly going about facing the shelves and stocking the refrigerated departments. The Boy would push the cart because he loved to get his lean on, and I would lead the grocery parade, because I liked to be in charge.

It’s the simple things like grocery shopping that I miss so much while The Boy and I are on this weird relationship hiatus, in which we’re not living in the same town, not going on dates, and such. I don’t even get the benefit of even doing my own grocery shopping because I don’t live on my own, and extrapolating myself from my parents grip is proving harder than I had originally planned. This whole situation just tough: this is some weird arrangement that I think that we don’t have too much of a choice in; and while it really stinks, it’s something we’ve gotten used to. However, I am getting really tired of telling the whole sordid story to people who give me weird looks when I explain our engagement arrangement.

But yes, the wedding was lovely, The Boy wowed and amazed my co-workers and boss, my lovely wedded co-worker seemed very happy that The Boy and I drove all the way down, and I tried not to be too jealous.