outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary


missing cat, and stressors

A letter to Miss Fae, who has gone AWOL and for whom we have no email address:

(I wrote this to your diaryland address but it bounced back to me)

Elizabeth O'Faecat!

You have been remiss with the diary entries, the email updates, the "hey, here I am!"s in guestbooks. How are things going? What happened with your husband and the diary? Nothing too terribly awful, I hope.

Sarah, of Neva4getme fame, and I have been exchanging guestbook signings pertaining to your whereabouts. We miss you! I really hope everything's ok, and that you'll come back soon and get us back up to date on what's going on.

Good luck weathering this chill, and have a happy holiday season. Hope to hear from you soon!

Take care, Love Jessie

Let this be a lesson to all of you. Once you've got a spot on my radar, it never stops bloop-blooping.

This weekend was predictably wonderful and anyone who missed it should poke him or herself in the eye with a fork repeatedly. If for no other reason than for bailing so late in the game and hurting very cool people. But that's another chat for another time.

The Celtics game was lots of fun, or maybe that's the wine coolers talking. I was, just like I told you I'd be, the girl exhibiting the blind local pride, and no idea of what was going on. Rob did indeed keep track of stats, but not in an ocd kind of way, and happily I did not feel inclined to take a nap, as I thought I might. I rooted for the Celtic's bad guy, and he did priddy good. All because of me, of course.

Dinner at Anna's was awesome, the company was delightful, and the food and wine were exquisite. Anna is just the coolest, and I require you all to spend a little time with her before you die. Debbie and Jonee are good people too, extremely likeable. I'm putting "nice" next to all their names, on behalf of Santa.

I think my bologna is rotten.

Sunday with my high school friends also turned out to be a fantastically fun time, especially because it was not I who was losing money on Keno.

Slip into the festivities the absolute best sex I have ever had, and you've got yourself a banner weekend.

Now I really think I shouldn't eat this bologna.

Unfortunately, the weekend is over now, and I really REALLY have to buckle down and get things done. Must stay late at work today, so I can leave early tomorrow to meet my brother in Randolph to (pretty pretty please, oh ye fates) fetch my parents' wedding pictures. Then I have to run to the mall tonight to get my license renewed. There's a piano book for my cousin waiting for me Porter Square, and information on my great-great-grandmother waiting for me at the library. I'm meeting my friend Ann for a work party on Friday, and my sister has a show at Emerson on Wednesday. And somehow, I have to be packed and moved out in a week and a half. Oh dubious dubiousness.


I threw my bologna sandwich away.

We got that apartment in Tucson, and now have an address.

The car is being taken care of.

Seven and a half more days of work.

New license!

Christmas is coming. Christmas is coming. I have lots of great presents to give.

Just one late shift left...maybe I won't even need that taxi.

Because yesterday, I had the prickiest (that's what you are when you're being a prick) cab driver in the world.

And I'm sure that somewhere out there, there is that cab driver, telling someone about how cunty I was.

John Lennon, I wish instant karma WAS going to get me. Unfortunately, there is no universal justice. There really should be. Times like this I wish I believed in hell.


For your benefit, here is the exchange between me and the cabby:

Me: (entering cab) Hello. Go straight up here and take a left on Prospect.

Cabby: (quietly but obviously indignant) Well, where'r ya going?

Me: Pleasant Street.

Cabby: So you want to take Prospect or Magazine?

Me: (confused) Well, you can't get on Magazine from here...just go down and take Prospect, it's the most direct way.

Cabby: Ok, it's your money, I'm just trying to help.

Me: Oh, go down Magazine then, that's fine.

Cabby: No, no, we'll do it your way.


Cabby: But it really would be faster to go down Magazine.

Me: Ok then, go down Magazine, that's fine, I don't mind.

Cabby: No, no, we'll go the way you wanna go.


Cabby: But my way has a lot less red lights, but hey, it's your money.

Me: (getting frustrated) Then go down Magazine! I really don't care, just go the way you want to go.

Cabby: No, forget it, we'll go down Prospect. (under his breath) Geez, try to make a suggestion...

Me: Dude, if you want to take Magazine, take Magazine. Don't keep saying "no, no, we'll take Prospect" and then keep whining about it.

Cabby: No, you yelled at me.

Me: I didn't yell at you! I'm yelling at you now, but when you first said it, I said sure, go ahead.

Cabby: No, as soon as I mentioned it, you raised your voice at me. So forget it, we'll go down Prospect, I don't care. I'm sorry I even said anything.

Me: (incredulous) So am I.

By which point, we were at Prospect.

It was just the stupidest conversation I'd ever had with a stranger. Christ! I think the whole thing happened because I assumed he wouldn't know where I wanted to go, because no one ever does. Then he puffed out his chest and tried to demonstrate his deep and profound knowledge of the city, and I didn't ooh and ahh appropriately, so he got self-righteous. Even so, what a prick.

So that fouled my mood up right good, as if it was so rosy in the first place, and when I got home my apartment looked weird and foreign. With the bookcase gone, and Rob having taken my keyboard and the enormous computer monitor, there were all these gaping areas that made me even more uncomfortable. But relating the stupid cab driver story to Rob made me feel better, as did the chicken noodle soup I've been addicted to ever since contracting this cold, as did the December 8th and 9th pieces of chocolate from my advent calendar. And the bird. If I didn't have the bird, I'd be completely riddled with anxiety on the nights when Rob isn't with me. Everyone should have a tiny loquacious bird with attitude.

Spooky, sorry I didn't come back to chat after an hour...I was working and forgot my priorities. Woops.

12:30 p.m. - 2002-12-10


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