Alright, I'm sleepy so I should try to make this short. Today I made leaps and bounds in my soup cooking skills: I actually cooked my soup with DRIED beans, and I put yams in my soup. I don't like yams usually, but I thought they might be good in soup and I was right. It's delicious, probably could use some more navy beans and yams. And fuckin-A cheap! I have soup for days and days. I will be sick of it soon enough, but my broke ass should just eat and shut the hell up. I have about $60 for the next two weeks. I am planning on working at Yea Ol Strip Club for all the Saturdays that I can. I think I've recovered enough from pneumonia to do physical work; at least by Saturday I should have.
And, it's day TEN without any cigarettes! Yay me.
Fuck, what else? Friday I drank almost a whole bottle of white wine to myself at a show and was unbelieveably fucked up. I can't believe I didn't smoke. I think there must have been some sort of reaction between the wine and my antibiotics because I really shouldn't have been as out of it as I was for how much I consumed. At the end of the night I had NO CLUE if I had brought my bag with me to the show and had to call Ponge and ask him if my bag was at home or not (it was). Actually, it was the end of the night for me but I think there were still a lot of people there and bands left...
I called Gary-taxi and thank god I didn't call another one because when we pulled up to my apartment I didn't recognize it AT ALL. I told Gary that it wasn't my house! And he had to say it was - I read the address and was like, oh yeah, I guess that is my apartment...what the fuck!? Then I didn't have any money so we had to go to an ATM where somehow (I figured this out later) I managed to transfer $50 from my savings to my checking before taking out $40 from my savings. What the fuck!?
How and why did I transfer that money instead of just taking it out of savings?? I don't know, I remember swearing at the machine. I probably looked like a complete ass. Thank god I left the show, I must have had some clue that I was way too fucked up to be in public. I hope I didn't make a complete jackass of myself. I just remember running into a co-worker from the NonProfit (yikes) and then seeing this chic Sarah I was supposed to meet there, sort of dancing then getting my stuff and calling Gary-cab. I think Tom left before all that shit happened.
Holy scary. All that off of just one bottle of wine...certainly my tolerance hasn't decreased to that severe an extent?? Anyway I didn't feel just drunk, I felt totally fucking clueless. Not like wasted-I'm-gonna-puke, just really confused and not able to recognize ordinary objects, etc. The possability of someone to have slipped me something was pretty low, so I am going with the antibiotics theory. Fuck.
So I got into my apartment safe and not really sound and managed to pull out my contacts and passed the fuck out.
Somehow I woke up at 10:20am, took a shower, and made it to the marriage counselor almost on time. Well, it's my time I'm paying for so I guess what the fuck does she care? I wonder if she knew I was hungover (still fucked up actually)?
Ponge and I had a really good talk afterwards. We talked about one of us getting a different apartment, about caring for each other and not wanting to deteriate into bickering bullshit, about maybe being better friends than parters, etc. We've been getting along splendidly ever since. I don't really know what will happen now, it's really expensive to live in different apartments and really confusing to live in the same one. Time will tell, I'm just glad we're not shitting on each other anymore.
I think in a lot of ways we're both really relieved to not have to worry about each other as a partner any more. I also think the reality of it will keep coming in waves, and I'll probably change my mind a thousand times before the end.
Night, then.