So, in exchange, I have offered her the mini fridge. She's going to be living in a dorm again next year, and dorms are where mini fridges belong. It's a big one too. As big as we were allowed at my college. So, as long as her school will let her, she can have it.
I tell you last night was a banner night for organization. And smoking. I smoked a pack of cigarettes yesterday. That was only Monday when I claimed I wasn't going to smoke until I got well. I'm not well. I'm closer, but smoking a pack of cigarettes isn't going to help.
But I wanted to tell you about the organization. Em asked me if I had any information on the zodiac. I thought I did. I went through the still packed from when I moved from my mother's house almost two years ago boxes. I got two of them consolidated down into one. I threw things away. It is much progress. The last two boxes are full of things and not papers, so they might be harder to unpack. But I never found the information.
And I cleaned up just a little. And I washed two dishes, which I then turned around and served our dinner on, but I washed some dishes.
And I had a really fun evening. Good productive night. This morning we rode the bus... and the one eyed mentally handicapped man who told me he was in love with me yesterday (and hugged me twice), hugged her twice and hugged me a couple times and shook our hands and asked if we were friends and told me again that he likes me. It's a little creepy... I kept trying to make my cigarette a boundary for him, you know "we can't hug so you don't get burnt" but it didn't work. He did burn himself once but I don't think he noticed. Some man with a mullet who was wearing acid wash jeans was totally waiting to defend us. He was watching with a very critical eye. I think he almost came over to protect us (from the one eyed mentally handicapped man who hugs people in the bus station (??))...
I just wrote all of that because I didn't want to write about how sad I am that the BusStopGuy didn't call last night. I know he's just being a guy, and they can't call two days in a row and besides which I was busy anyway last night and blah blah blah... I don't care. I do, but not really. I'm not talking about this anymore right now.
She also had me call my father. Apparently no one ever confirmed that he has my car. Poor Jerry. He's getting well. Dad says it might not be a lost cause. He thinks he can make the car run. He's drained out two batteries so far trying (they are charging back up for more make the car run fun), but he thinks it can happen. I would love to get my car back. I love that car.
This was also when they both found out about my ankle. Mom seemed completely okay with it. Dad kept asking me if I was okay and how I could live alone with a broken ankle and all this. Basically, I think my dad is really good at like having a just barely grown up daughter. He was bad at having small children, okay with teenagers. He gets better as I age. Whereas my mother is amazing with small children, even more amazing with teenagers (seriously. My mother is the best mother of teenagers I have ever encountered.), but terrible with me now.
I don't know where I am going with this so I am going to stop. Let's just all be glad that Jerry might someday work.