I’ve been working a LOT more hours (much more than I expected) since I promoted. The boys are (predictably) more clingy.
I was hoping the Sneaky Chef thing would be more of a series than it actually is. I do believe the people able to sneak this stuff past their kids are NOT parents of a supertaster. To be quite frank, the only thing he’s actually eaten a tablespoon of was the breakfast ice cream I blogged about, and the ONLY reason he kept tasting it was because I let him say “more chocolate. More sugar. It still doesn’t taste right, maybe how about more chocolate?” After that, I decided not to jack with his list of “approved” foods. The absolute last thing I need is him refusing to eat any foods at all because “it didn’t taste right that one time”.
Tomorrow I’ll be touring an apartment. I’m not thrilled with the idea of apartment living in any way, shape, or form again (I need a few hundred yards between my neighbors and me for complete comfort) but we neeeeeeeeed to move while The Folks ™ and I are still on friendly terms. And I’m gently freaked about moving (again) in general.
The semester is about to start, and I’ve been nailbiting, reviewing notecards, and trying to schedule study time around my New! Improved! work schedule.
My dating site profile is still pulled. I’m thinking it’ll stay permanently pulled. The problem with the gene pool is there’s no lifeguard.
I miss my friends in the box… I promise I’m reading!
For those of you in the grocery store: We’re sorry you’re standing in line, but if there were anyone else available to run a register, they would BE running one. We know you’re tired and stressed and still have to COOK that cart full of stuff you just bought. No, scanning your discount card again isn’t going to help. Please have your ID in hand unless you’re obviously over 40. You may be a regular customer, but Thanksgiving and Christmas is all a blur and your case of beer isn’t worth getting fired over. When she grunts and groans over moving yet another turkey/ham/case of drinks, your smartass comments about going to the gym aren’t appreciated in any way shape or form. She’s moved the better part of a truckload of each - can you say you’ve moved 2000+ lbs an hour for 6-8 hours?
For those of you in the toy/department store: We know you’re tired and stressed, but it’s not like Christmas Season is a surprise. Stop whining about paying as much for the batteries as you did the toy. When you pick up the toy, write down the size of battery and stop by the dollar store next door. Or? Save your sanity and pick out something that doesn’t require batteries. It’s not the cashier’s fault your “Must Have” toy is sold out - you knew it was a “must have” back before Thanksgiving WHY didn’t you get it then??!!?? Stop stressing over whether or not the kids will like the cartload of stuff you’re picking up. The answer is “NO.”
They want to play in the box it came in.
Keep in mind that your cashier has been standing in front of that stupid boop boop boop reader for what seems like an eternity. She does not psychically know what the sales sign says, nor can she leave her post to go look at it. All she has to look at is the sales paper at her register - and if it’s an in-store deal that’s not ringing up properly it’s not HER fault. There is no Psychic Store Employees Network, just the store manager-on-duty.
It’s over. Finished, kaput, fin.
I know I haven’t given you a blow-by-blow of the last month, so let me do that now.
He has called me every day, and asked for permission to call the next day.
He is in love, calls me his precious, his love, and tells me I’m more beautiful every time he sees me.
He wants to be married in a year, maybe.
I do not give my heart so easily. I like him. I appreciate his attentions, but am in no way shape or form in love. To be completely frank, the last time he told me I was beautiful I accused him of intoxication (In my defense, I’d been at work for 8 hours and was having one of those bloated uncomfortable “omg I’m a TROLL” days).
Neither am I ready to speak of marriage.
For a few brief moments, I felt badly that I didn’t return his sentiment. I do LIKE the guy, after all.
But.
Guilt is a horrible foundation for a relationship, and I did indeed feel guilty about not being as ready as he is to commit.
But.
Last night I tried again to explain to him that I felt as much, and found that it’s not about me, it’s about him. He kept kissing me and wouldn’t let me speak. I tried to push him away so I could speak, and he wouldn’t release me.
It’s frustrating enough with the language and cultural differences, but to think that kisses can change my mind is naive at best.
