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2004-04-29 @ 10:45 p.m.
When Harry Met Witty

Oh, I just looked at my diary and my Bravenet counter said 10,666. Hmmm. Reader 666. Wonder if my mother found my diary.

Well, I've been bitching and moaning about snow, bitter cold temperatures and ice for the last six months, so let me just officially switch gears and say, damn its hot. It went from snow on Tuesday night to 83 degrees today.

I'm not a big fan of heat and hot weather. I prefer the cold (although not the snow). And the one thing that makes heat particularly annoying for me, is that I live behind a two story dental building and my bedroom, where my computer is, is less than 10 feet away from this big old rusty, dilapidated air conditioning unit. Its about the size of six refrigerators strapped together, and it is LOUD.

It wouldn't be so bad if it stayed on all day and I could get used to its low roar, but this damn thing comes on-off, on-off like 150 times an hour. And it sounds like the fucking helicopter getting ready to pick up Bush on the White House lawn, its so loud.

I am anxious to get out to my little front yard to plant some stuff though. Its a little early to do so, since we generally aren't truly frost free until May 15th. The only thing is, my entire yard is overshadowed by this office building. All the windows face my yard.

So I'm guessing the Nude Gardening thing is probably out. Wouldn't want some geeky dentist to see me watering the petunias in the nude and accidentally drill some guy a new nostril.

But my cat is happy its Spring. For the first time since I moved here last September, the birds are finally coming to a feeder I hung near the front window in the living room. Although "JAWS" in convinced that this hanging hors d'ueuvre platter, is merely there for her viewing pleasure. She keeps getting her claw stuck in the screen reaching for sparrow pate.

Sadly, I didn't get together with kidlet for music this week. Married Guy said he had a track meet Tuesday and wouldn't be home until almost 7 and I really didn't want to go all the way out there that late (he lives out past where I see "A", which is quite a distance). I kinda missed seeing him though. I really like doing music with kidlet. I really don't know if he cares about my once a week musical intervention, especially since he takes "real lessons" from a professional piano teacher, but I still like our time together and think I do contribute something towards his musical education. Maybe some style perhaps.

And then tomorrow is another massage with Married Guy. He made a point in telling me he was going to be alone in the shop Friday when I came for my appointment. Wasn't sure what the point of that was.

Why? Should I paint my toenails? Maybe tell people where I'm going, so if I turn up missing, he'll be the major suspect. Hmmm. As "A" always like to say...."Well, he's "interesting".

Interesting and he makes me tingly, unfortunately. After not seeing him for three weeks last week, when I finally saw him in his shop, everything around him just blurred out as he walked towards me.

Damn. Am I not a sad individual? I tried really hard to throw up all these roadblocks during those three weeks, but when you have feelings for someone, you just act like a freakin' idiot.

Anyone have a pill for that? An anti-freakin' idiot pill? Or a get-over-the-Married-Guy-and-get-on-with-the-rest-of-your-life pill?

I realize that the thing that would make all these foolish feelings go away, would be a REPLACEMENT object of desire.

(See....I'm smarter than I act.)

But its hard to just throw away what you've got (although "A" would strongly disagree I've GOT anything), before you've got something else firmly in know what I mean?

I guess whenever emotions are involved its like trying to rope the wind. Not very easy.

And yet, I know I'll go into Married Guy's office tomorrow full of expectations. Expectations of feeling good because I'm with a friend. Expectations of feeling loved. Expectations of feeling good physically and possibly sexually (this is only privately. He doesn't know I get that kind of pleasure out of his touch. Well, perhaps subconsciously he does, but who knows.) And then we'll talk like friends. He'll talk about his family. The kids. He'll ask me how things are. I'll lie and say fine, since I don't want to disrupt things during the massage and get all angsty.

I mean, theoretically things could go on like this forever. Be the family friend. Get the massages every couple of weeks. Pine for him privately. Stay single forever.

Yippee. Yay for me.

But soon I'll be losing "A". My gale force wind. The only person who cares enough about my emotional health to keep plugging away on me and encouraging me to make some much needed changes. And then what?

The other day during my Survivor's group, we always do personal appreciations at the end of the group. Like you were brave today. Or you were really able to express yourself well. I frequently get complimented on my sense of humor or on the way I dress. For some reason people are surprised I can put together a somewhat happening ensemble from garage sales and Goodwill.

I da wittykitty!

Anyways, this last week, one of my groupmates, said she really admired my steadfastness, and how I really kept plugging along.

Guess I really don't have a choice, do I? Nobody else is going to run my life. And I really can't afford to plow through 250,000 videotapes from potential Apprentices like Donald Trump. And sometimes having a steadfast nature isn't always a good thing. Why? Because my pig-headedness has been known to keep me in incredibly deep ruts.

But I guess my steadfastness has also kept me from going under. It certainly wasn't any support from my family. I did receive financial support from my dad for a long time, but never emotional support. And I've only got smatterings of that from friends and therapists here and there.

So I guess I'm my own best friend. I make the decisions, good and bad. I decide who's in and out. I have the final edit. And I guess its up to me whether my life is a blockbuster or a flop.


Guess I better start some re-writes. Perhaps hire a new director. Fire that selfish bitch who is playing the lead role (I'm better looking anyways). Maybe reconsider the tone of the film...perhaps make it into a romantic comedy (a 'la "When Harry Met Sally"). You know, instead of David Lynch film. With dwarfs.

And I definitely want a happy ending. Definitely.

Ya know, like when Harry is running through the streets of New York at midnight on New Years Eve, and he knows he's in love with Sally, and he wants to find her and tell her, and she's at a party in a penthouse and he finally gets there and he tells her everything he's always wanted to tell her, like how much he loves the way she orders her food in restaurants and how much he loves the way there is a slight crinkle above her nose...and the way, and the way, and the way....

I want to find MY HARRY. Or maybe we can have him find me. Yeah, that's it! Can we do THAT rewrite? Please Harry. Find me... I'm over there....see me? I'm watering the petunias by the dentist building..and we'd be great together.

I fucking know it!

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty