I was IMing with the Innocent Bystander yesterday because the phone connection sucked. (Vonage, by the way? *shakes head* Don't even THINK about it.) I was catching him up on what I've been doing lately and what Dar and I have planned for today. It was his turn to type something, so I waited, watching the little dialogue box. And waited. Finally, I saw that he was typing something. It read "It must be nice to be you."
I felt like a chump. There he sits in the middle of his river, halfway around the world, the lone grain of salt in a peppermill of a country that is slowly grinding on his last nerve, whilst I flit from mall to restaurant to casino to bar and then rinse and repeat. All on his dime.
I could have lost a lot of sleep over this, but he knows that I don't take one minute of this for granted. And I am a liver
not an exister. He also knows that when he gets home, the focus will all be on him (and right now, I would give my left nut to be able to do some FOCUSING on him.)
So I am off to live, folks. I'm taking Dar to Mobile to see if the malls over there have anything new and different or if the same girls with indeterminate accents will rush us asking "Ma'am? Can I ask you a question?" as they try to grab our hands to buff a fingernail. I also want to do a little research on Santy Claus-see if he's cheaper in the Big City-memories are supposed to be priceless, right? Once I have satisfied my shopping jones, we are going to Mobile Greyhound Park to pop her dogtrack cherry, and then we will top it all off with a hockey game.
It is nice to be me.
Lagniappe: Click here.