So my fabulous fellow dissertator came into town and went. There was much chatting, drinking, hanging out. Lovely. I cleaned and so was not totally embarrassed by my Life of Sloth -- though I did not clean everywhere but am now pleased at least with a couple rooms of my house and can be found picking stray things off the ground in those rooms in the hopeless attempt at keeping it clean until I have the new catsitter in my house while I'm gone to Cool Institute and Urban Home City. (Without Mr. Tabby. It just seems inconceivable that I do not take him everywhere.)
So imagine this if you will. It's the late morning of Day Fabulous Dissertator Comes into Town -- and you're running out to go get quarters to shove basically your entire bed into the washing machine before Fabulous Dissertator calls to meet for dinner. You check the mail, a totally reasonable thing to do. And in the mailbox is a letter in an only slightly familiar hand with a totally unfamiliar return address under the name of a former lover you were totally awful to in the dawn of time. Of course you react in the only way possible: What? What? What the fuck? You open the letter, and it's very short -- really just a note saying that Former Lover is looking for you. You know, after fifteen years. Happens all the time, right? Somehow you make it to your car, nearly get in an accident, try to calm your nerves with a venti latte, and make illegal left turns at every opportunity, basically forgetting how to get to places you go every day.
You call Former Lover as soon as you get half the bed into the washing machine. He's married with kids but wants to clear the air. The fact is you're pretty sure you made a dreadful mistake all those years ago not choosing him over the person who became your ex and the reason why you decided post-divorce that you must not be the marrying kind. Though you are dissertating and getting ready to move for a two-year gig, you find you can't help thinking about how weird it is to be contacted after so many years, because you, my dear, happen to be an obsessive moron. As soon as Fabulous Friend leaves, you dig in the Land of Lost Things and the Closet the World Forgot and find Former Lover's beautiful letters which make you wonder if this is the only person who ever really loved you (except SO) and the journals that reveal that actually you were a much bigger shit than you thought you were. What can you do but stay up until 7:30am reliving a past where you were 19 and hopelessly and terribly dumb?
Oh and by the way, Ex has a baby. You realize you are forever totally behind the curve on that one.
So tell me, dear reader, what do you do?
OY! So I indulged the whole obsession last night, blathering to Tolerant Mom and Witty Sardonic Friend all night. Okay, so there was some sobbing. So shoot me. But today, I'm determined to get Back to Business. I have shit to do besides google the Former Lover's name all night and read about the Hopeless and Hapless Adventures of a Much Younger Not-So-Earnest. Do I need this drama right now? No, I do not. I have dumb dissertation revisions and maddening reader comments to deal with. I have an abstract to write. I have Grad City U paperwork to do. I have a whole house to go through and pack and ship. I have a graduation party to plan. I have an institute to go to. I have a computer to pack. I have a new teaching situation to fret over and have terrible teaching dreams about. I have an ailing cat to worry over. For god's sake, I do not have time to moon about and think about how much a shit I was at the Dawn of Time and wonder what might have been (which probably would've been more heartbreak anyway)!!! I have a whole new adventurous life to get ready for.
Of course, I doubt that I will be able to use reason to actually push the damn thing out of my mind, but at least I have to get some shit done. There's some silly service I need to do, then I need to start tackling Problem 2. Amazingly though I woke up and my first thought was Great New Drama, an epiphany of how to start addressing Problem 2 did burn through the stupidity to my brain.
In other news, I found out that a friend reads my blog. Shout out to Dr. Doctor.
I feel so much better. I got the silly service out of the way. People are going to make an easy decision into a whole nest of trouble -- and I'm not having any part of it. (How's that for cryptic blogging?!) Now, I'm going to go ahead and start some work on Problem 2 -- and maybe a 10-minute freewrite on the conclusion. It's nice to have some romantic drama -- to wonder what I could possibly have done that would be so unforgettable that Former Lover wants to talk to me now. (Maybe he just wants to put a pie in my face. As long as it's not banana cream, I'm okay. Do you think it would be okay to request coconut? Or chocolate cream?) But enough already. I've got some dissertation revisions to get out of the way. And I may be able to corner PA tomorrow about the gnarley problem. YAY!!!!