truthfully, I am really tired.
after passing a liquor store that I forgot existed, and yelling “son of a BITCH” as I realized it. you can only buy liquor at liquor stores here. I’d have to stray from my remaining 1.5 mile drive home, a straight shot, to buy liquor now. that was not an option.
I picked out something that I knew wasn’t terrible, and stood in the excruciatingly long line as I watched traffic outside get worse and worse. legs feeling like jelly from PT and my stomach in knots from a crappy end to the day.
I put the wine on the counter. the cashier immediately got on the phone and called for a “code 21”. I glanced at the exit. nobody was leaving, trying to shoplift. he stood there, staring blankly and looking nervous. several dragging moments later..
“I can’t sell you that.”
“I can’t sell you that. I’m not old enough. we have to wait for my manager.”
“oh for fuck’s sake. I thought you were going to somehow make me go without wine tonight. that can’t happen.”
the entire line shifted nervously at my language, aside from the girl behind me, who smirked and gave me a look that said she’d been there.
“sorry, ma’am. he’ll be here in a sec. do you want it double bagged?”
- Allison: hi
- Meryl: hi
- Allison: what time are we leaving
- Meryl: around 12:15 i guess
- Allison: ok
- Meryl: see ya
- Allison: is there beer besides shitty beer in the fridge
- Allison: I want one
- Meryl: yes
- Meryl: now?
- Allison: why not
- Allison: it's thanksgiving
- Meryl: good point
- Allison: do what I want
- Meryl: why not
- Allison: I don't want to get up though
- Meryl: there's boddingtons in the garage
- Allison: ooooh, and that's closer
- Meryl: i don't know what else. good luck finding something with all the potatoes in there
- Allison: okay
“I think I love you and I’m not at all sure what to do about that but I don’t care and it’s good.”
it’s been years since I’ve gotten that feeling. my hand came up to my mouth like some sort of reflex and I smiled. the middle of my chest burned, I blinked, emptied my glass. I didn’t think I felt the same way; I knew. I was pretty sure you did too. but it’s just like putting “kind of/sort of” or “maybe” in front of a statement so as to make it not seem quite so paramount. you’re wary of the other person’s response, no matter how sure you are that the response will be what you want to hear. even in complete honesty, everyone’s allowed a little bit of trepidation. even in this case.
that time I asked if you’d finished your first drink yet, maybe two weeks ago - I wanted to tell you then. ever since way before that, we’ve been thinking the same way. ever since the beginning that seems like it should’ve been so long ago.
I’ve started physical therapy for my shitty knees. I have something called chondromalacia patella, which is not uncommon and completely treatable. I ignored the minor pain after running or if I simply took a step wrong until one day last weekend, when both knees were hit with a lightning strike of stabbing pain as I quickened from a walk to a jog. the right knee’s worse. it always is.
probably not the best idea to go to a session when I’m beyond exhausted, but I couldn’t change the appointment without a fee. the work they ask me to do isn’t all that hard, but it’s frustrating. I walk out of there feeling drained with limbs tingling, knowing exactly where I’m going to hurt for the next few days. wondering if it’ll be worth it just to be able to go back to my meager 5 miles of running per week. I got up off the table - would have dozed off while laying on it if my hamstrings weren’t being stretched to the point my feet fell asleep - and reached down to grab my bag, and cra-a-a-ck went my lower back. it didn’t hurt, just felt weird, much like every other muscle in my lower body.
“you’re fallin’ apart there, girl!” said my therapist in his adorable louisianan drawl, after confirming I hadn’t managed to injure something else.
“I know. I wish my body would take it one section at a time.”
something is always bothering me physically. I can’t remember the last time I had a day where all of my parts were working together properly. some of it is probably my own fault and I could stand to take better care of myself. eight tattoos have told me I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but do I really? is my perception of pain really skewed, or am I reacting to it like anybody else would? I’m so sensitive to any feeling of discomfort; it messes with my mood even if it’s something minor like sleeping on my shoulder funny.
actually, everything messes with my mood. so I’m just going to try to be able to run again, and hope that something else doesn’t break in the meantime.
Girl, you were creepin above your station.
best submission I’ve seen so far