from the new apartment. mayday.

it took me the majority of the day to figure it out.

i couldn't put a name on how i was feeling.

the closest thing is apathy. but that didn't even fit properly.


but i realized it at around 5pm.

this is what i do.

i get overwhelmed. and i freeze up. i feel entirely helpless. and i accomplish NOTHING.


i sucked it up, once i realized it. i used to just waste the better part of a day wallowing in it.

but not today. since i'm making this whole fresh new start, i guess i'm going to take this on first thing.


moving out of the house wasn't nearly as hard as i thought it would be. despite ever tricking me into seeing him and the dog.

he said he'd left, as i pulled up in front of the house.

then said that he was about to leave. and instead of walking away when he came down the stoop with the dog, he came to the car and tried to talk to me.

and i just told him to go because i didn't want to set her off. and he did.

kit said he just wanted to see me. and for me to see him.

he succeeded. but i'm nearly positive the look on my face was enough to dissuade him from trying anything other than tossing a few words over his shoulder as he walked away from me, and from the house.


funny story: this is why i don't talk on my phone while i'm driving.

well, first of all, it's illegal. and the ticket costs $140. so says my friend cat who got a ticket recently.

but kit was following me to the house and she called me. i wavered about answering. but i was only two blocks from the house.

so i answered.

and two sentences in, fucking flashing lights in the rearview.

pulled over, trying to look innocent, but i was already sick from heading to the house, so i probably just looked mortified.

and he said 'you know you're not supposed to be on your phone'.

and i wanted to say, yes. i never do this. see i'm just...

but i didn't. i nodded.

and he said he'd let me go with a warning, despite the fact that i was even getting comfortable with the phone wedged in between my ear and shoulder (i had to shift gears).

i was shaking. i was shaking before getting pulled over. but i was really really shaking after.

called kit. she got off the phone because she was driving. and passed the same cop a block or so later.

i hate when people are on their phone when they're driving. they're almost always driving like assholes. and breaking every law. and one of the few times i can count on my hand that i have talked on my phone while driving in the last year, i got nailed.


handled the house. in and out. loaded and unloaded in under an hour. i think kit and i high-fived at least ten times.

went to kit's to help her sort and pack her stuff into garage sale pile and my pile and garbage pile and keep pile.

and that was easier than handling my own stuff.


but then went to my-your to get the sound dock so i could listen to music while cleaning. and the laptop because words were starting to swim in my head and i wanted to get them written here, from the new apartment.

i went to the apartment, or came to, rather. and i started cleaning. and sorting rooms. trying to untangle what all came from the house. and what couldn't wait that came from my-your.

i'm sitting in the floor. in what will be my bedroom. leaning against the wall. listening to thao nguyen because that is all i can do as of late.

and writing my first post from here.


goddamn this place is nothing like my-your, with its quality tilework and wood floors. with its big kitchen and a plentitude of cabinet space.

now i have all these things. and i need more things to put my things in. and i'm worried that i'm going to break my toes on the lip of the tile where it meets the wood floor in this place. my parents call them toe catchers. there are gaping holes where the wood floors let the old radiators stand where they've stood for a hundred years or more.

i need an island. and though the tropical variety would probably do a lot to repair the mess that is my head right now, i need the kind that you find at ikea, with shelves for kitchen things.


it's funny. this place has probably always been rented by boys. it has that feeling. that vibe.

and though a little femininity will suit this place well, i wish that downstairs landlord would let me paint the fucking walls. maybe if i sand down all the plaster/drywall mud patchwork on every wall and ceiling.

fuck me. i might have to buy yards of fabric and just cover all walls. all ceilings. if anyone knows of a tasteful? way to do this, please share. i'm going to need an overhaul.


kit's selling her old bed to me. so on friday, i'll have that.

by some miracle, we got the couch in. i was sweating it so hard. and though bringing it up and in was the hardest part of the move, hands down, it only took about ten minutes from car to living room.

and it is the best thing going in this place right now.

i don't know what i'll do.

i think i'm afraid of my parents judging me for this place. it's expensive for what it is. but location and all.

i wish i could have swung the nicer apartments. but i just have to tell myself not to accumulate too much in the next thirteen months. because i'll be leaving at the end the lease, during prime rental month. and i'll have my pick of places. and my credit card will be very nearly paid off, and i can spring for a nicer place.

it's only a year, after all.


and it is mine. it is all mine.

and that is something. even if it is next to nothing.


yeah... so come on over. it's a big place. i have plenty of room. and nothing would make me happier than to have you here. just put on these blinders...


this place makes me miss the house. i thought we did such a halfassed job at it, at the time, but after seeing this place? ours looks amazing.


when i went there today, there were vegan cookbooks and new pots and pans in the cabinets. someone has moved in. without my knowlege. and that is a problem. saying as it is still mine, halfway.

there were new dishes and glasses above the countertop.

there was a cat litter box in the bathroom. and there was a boy bike in the living room.

the office was set up like a bedroom, though i only glanced in to see that there was a desk.

then, panic.

i had to get out.

i was having a panic attack driving there. then the cop two blocks from there. then the rush of loading the car.

and seeing that someone else was there, i don't know how it made me feel. but it made me sad to be in the fucking kitchen of all kitchens. my custom kitchen. the kitchen i picked out, top to bottom. the kitchen that my parents and friends spent three trips making.

fuck.

and the bathroom, despite the gaping hole in the ceiling, made me wish for the clawfoot back. and the tile. and the space. my clawfoot tub. that i picked out. the vanity that suited it perfectly. that i spent my last $300 on, at some point in time.


and i guess it just kills me that we couldn't work it out.

because that house was MINE. and he took it from me. and i wish that i could live there and be in it. without him.

but when i was there, all i wanted was out.

stubborn tea can admit when she's made a mistake.


i should have kicked him out.

i should have stayed in the house.

i wish i could have. but i just couldn't afford it alone.


the truth is, i just couldn't do it.


and hopefully i can buy a house someday, and not think about that one anymore.

but until then, i'll have another little list of regrets that came after the one where i married a self indulgent shithead who ran me off. and who tells everyone that i ran away.


again, harriet... 'i'm not going to cry. i'm not going to cry. i'm not going to cry...'

and then, the tears.