The Big 4-0
I'm turning 40 this week. I am not looking forward to it. Last week I handed Zen Buddhist the phone. "Ozma wants you to call her. It's about my surprise birthday party next Tuesday. Tell her if you can go, but don't bother to confirm or deny it to me. I know," I said. Ozma is The Queen of Surprise Parties and All Tremble in Her Path.
I'm also going out for dinner and drinks with Chris (of the Sweet N' Saur blog) tonight and my parents are taking me to a 5-star restaurant on Wednesday. All this support is equivalent to a funeral wake. I am experiencing the death of my thirties.
Terrazzo was apparently invented by Satan himself, along with lima beans and hairnets. The stain didn't take, and I will need to do something else. As I meticulously painted the floor yesterday, Ozma sat nearby, mooning over her ex-boyfriend. By the time it was over, we were both so depressed that I was sawing at my wrists with a spackling knife. As I told Ozma's brother (Jack) later, some day I want my tombstone to read "It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time." This seems to be the Theme of My Life. Obviously it's time for Plan B. I'll let you know when I've figured out exactly what Plan B is.
As you recall, I got the ex-boyfriend help from a drug treatment program through my church. He had promised he'd never go to the 9 o'clock service so that I could attend in peace. However, yesterday he was there. He approached me and we spoke pleasantly for a couple minutes. "This is what I screwed up and lost," he told a man that was with him. He always knows what to say, or so he believes. Truth can be charming, but he never overdoses on it.
Initially, I was polite and allowed them to sit with me. Although I tried to stay through the service, I realized I couldn't handle it any longer. You see, I can't worship in peace next to someone that I would prefer to mutilate. I whispered to him that I was leaving, and he left, too. On my way to the parking lot, he called out for me to wait. I did, and he walked me to my car.
I continued to be courteous until he attempted to kiss me. That's when I pushed him away and told him firmly that it was completely unacceptable as I wiped my mouth on my arm and spit in an unladylike way (picture Elmer Fudd after Bugs has kissed him). I also told him that although I wished him well, I would no longer attend that church. I will be going elsewhere from now on. This is a complication that I don't need.
I could hear my wallet moving around restlessly, however. I knew she wanted to get back into his pants. The slut!