Karl has been IMing me, all of a sudden. Like we've been chatting this whole time. He's still coming out here, and making plans to move here. When I reply, it's "good luck" or "that's too bad," when he's complaining. No hint of the romantic or a desire to meet when he's here. He thinks he can ignore me for weeks, and I'm just sitting here waiting for him to talk? Uhm, no. I don't do waiting well. I find....Rangers!
Greg called again. He's feeling guilty because his soon-to-be-ex-again had to find a job, since he's not coming back. She's working as a stripper. He also knows I'll be in town soon, but to work. We had this lovely bit of conversation:
"Hey, do you smoke?" he asked me.
"No," I said. I actually really abhor smoking. "Why do you ask?"
"Darn. I was hoping to get you high when you're here."
Oh. That type of smoking. "Well, I never have been, so that's not gonna happen."
Get a grip.
Old BF has severely injured himself. Something was cooking on the stove and fell on his foot. He has second and third degree burns and is under doctor's orders to not be on it. The danger of infection is high. He's in extreme pain. I sure hope he takes care of it.
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