Life is pretty okay.

I'm unemployed. On employment insurance. I keep working too many bits here and there, and being out of the country, so they've only paid me a whopping $1.

I went to Paris and Amsterdam. Couldn't really afford the damned trip, but there you go. The parents were picking up the bulk of the tab, so how could I not, right?

I really liked it. I don't think I need to go back to Paris, unless it's to have sloppy make-outs along the Seine.

~

Every step I take...it feels like a thousand me's. A hundred-thousand of them. All stepping in unison, but only with the strength of one.

I feel every past me, every future me, riding on my shoulders. I feel my birth and my death, pushing me, following me, hanging on to my ankles.

Does everybody feel like this?

~

I went over to T's house this weekend. He stroked my hair and I put my head in his lap.

His cats got used to me again. His old grouchy cat even suffered through a little bit of petting.

I need to bring treats for that old cat.

The fastest way to a man's heart (besides his stomach) is by befriending his pets, or his children. Or both.

T doesn't have any children, or none that he's mentioned. I really doubt if he has secret children.

~

Saturday night. We went to a party, the husband of a close friend of his.

The room was nicely full. Lots of smart people talking. A few stupid people talking, too.

We walk in the door. I'm nervous. At best, I know one by name, four or five by sight. The rest I don't know at all.

One of the guys, a fellow who's been publicly correcting T's grammar on Facebook (much to his vast irritance, especially since his grammar and spelling are pretty damned good), looks at me in surprise.

"Say," he says, "don't you live in--?"

"Yes," I say plainly, and the room laughs.

T and I walk into the room, settle across from each other. The man is like a dog with a bone; he doesn't let go.

"But...what are you doing HERE?" he persists, not making the connection that almost the entire room has made already.

"Think about it," T says, a little sharper than was strictly necessary. "Who did she come in with?"

It clicks, finally, but he pretends it doesn't. "But...why YOU?"

I just smile knowingly, and don't respond. That gets as many laughs as me saying anything.

It was a pretty good night. There was cake.

I ignored grammar boy and resisted correctly his language.

~

Life is pretty okay.

T kissed me in the foyer, tucked hair behind my ear and kissed me again.

I feel comfortable with him. More and more comfortable. I like this boy a lot.

Yes, I do like this boy.

Or rather, this man.

Delicious, delicious man.

.

Rosie.

Before&After