For the first time in almost exactly 3 years I heard from my ex-husband. He emailed me to pass along a message from the company from which we jointly leased my car that my lease will be up in May and they need to discuss the return with me.

I called the leasing company to check on all my options, because Dawg and I really love that car like a member of the family. We even call my car a pet name. I took down all the information then discussed it that night with Dawg. I could buy the car if I wanted, but the amount still due plus the finance rate they were offering just wasn’t financially reasonable. I asked him to help me make this decision, because the car I get next will be our car, even if only my name is on the title and loan, and I’m not great with making this particular life decision. He agreed. We are in the early stages of discussing what car we will get next. I know it will meet certain criteria (or, at least, that’s the plan) but beyond that I am excited to see what we jointly choose together. And this time I will buy, not lease.

I am sad that my current car will be going back to the car company, but am slightly relieved that the very last item that was still jointly owned by me and my ex-husband will finally be out of my life. It’s an old, bad habit to worry that I am disappointing that man with any of my decisions, and if we don’t have any financial responsibilities together he can be disappointed all he wants with my life choices but my decisions won’t negatively impact him in any way. That is a big relief.

Today I went full grocery shopping alone for the first time since I’ve had my new job. In a moment of brilliance during the shopping list creation process I decided to divide the list up by dry goods and cold/wet/perishable goods.

I arrived at the store, used my card to activate one of the self scanners, then walked around the inner portion of the store to shop for only dry goods. I filled up the entire cart with these goods, packing them snugly in their bags as I went. I checked out with $200 worth of groceries, brought them to my car, packed them in their spot, then returned to the store. I used my card to activate another self scanner, then walked around the outer portion of the store and the frozen food aisles to pick up and snugly pack $222 worth of food that does not appreciate being kept out of a refrigerator.

Lots of birds, one stone: I was able to pack my bags the way I wanted, was able to breeze through the 15 items or less line (when you self scan it doesn’t matter how many items you have, because you already totaled your groceries for them), and was able to keep all the perishable stuff together so I knew which bags to give priority when I got home.

Yes, it took me longer to do things this way, but I have anxiety issues when it comes to crowded places, and everyone was Thanksgiving shopping today so this was my way of coping. Because I had a plan I was able to take my time and keep a pleasant, even-tempered attitude while everyone was crowding the aisles around me.

I brought home $422 worth of groceries right as school was letting out, so was able to find a parking spot near my building. I ended up having to make 5 trips up my stairs. After trip 4 I was so exhausted that I ended up inadvertently planking on the bed while Twitter sat on my butt rubbing her head against my leg (it’s her “thing”).

There is still one trip left to make, but I was too exhausted to get the remaining spaghetti sauce jars and the Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper. Hopefully we don’t have a surprise overnight freeze.

It seems a little premature to announce that I’ve decided to become a member of the same volunteer ambulance organization that Dawg is part of, since I have to go through an interview process and be accepted, but could actually be rejected as a new member. I’m going to take the jinx risk and let the universe know about this before it becomes a sure thing.

It’s a world I will be honored to be a part of if they let me in. A lot of the people who volunteer there are my family without the blood relation, I feel very comfortable there, and I’ve done everything for them from raising money to washing dishes to directing traffic to waving in parades. I’ve attended memorials, dedications, celebrations, award shows, fundraiser events, and blood drives. What I haven’t done yet is dispatch or ride on the ambulance to go save a life or stick a Band-Aid on a boo-boo.

I don’t actually know if I have it in me to be on the ambulance, but secretly I hope I have what it takes to be in the back helping someone be stable enough for transport to the hospital. I think I want to be part of this world. And I’m willing to lose my $10 bet with Dawg that I won’t be on the back of that bus by June 12, 2012.

Me and Dawg working the Austin Street Fair
June 12, 2011

It’s no fun to see famous people and not be able to tell you I saw them.

Today nothing of consequence occurred.

Well, I did buy some soup and popsicles. And interrupt a meeting, at the presenter’s request, to install software. (… oh hai, i’m just the it guy bustin in on your MEETING, what WHAT! …) And make an entire train car of people think I was going to turn them into zombies with my sneezing.

But you know that’s not what I actually want to tell you and can’t. Ohh, what good Cereal Wednesday episodes I would have if I was allowed to ask them to participate…

*sneeze* *sneeze* *sneeze* Someone else help Dawg put the laundry together? Please?

ok, bye.

This post is real.

Dawg and I planned the last post together. We did not break up. We are very much together, and happily so.

The words in my post were crafted as I sat on the couch, channeling my inner sadness. My inner insecurities. Conversations we’ve had. Feeling the pain of hurdles and challenges we have made it past and conquered.

Recently Dawg and I had a conversation in which we joked about us breaking up over him leaving his socks on the floor.

Socks on the floor can be replaced by the toilet seat up or dishes left in the sink or clutter being left on common surfaces or [insert something that might annoy a person]. The funny thing is, none of these things annoy me.

I am a kid at heart. And I’ve already been through the trauma of trying to live the perfect married life and failing miserably at it because I wasn’t happy.

But even with my kidlike spirit (which, I’m sorry to say, is what allowed me to post that devilish April Fool’s Day tale to the Internet in the first place), I value the importance of communication with my partner in life. We have made the pact that we are together for life, without the piece of paper that for other people is extremely necessary, but we’ve both had before and it did not end well at all. We are very serious about going on life’s journey together, which to us makes it quite laughable that we’d break up over me being mad about socks on the floor. My mom, Bdogg, Britt, and Robin have all been here, they know how we live: like teenagers putting off the chore of cleaning our room until a parental unit yells, or until we run out of clean underwear.

Things are different now that I have a new job. We are both busy. We don’t get a lot of time together. And sometimes it does feel like we’re not connecting on things… and then we say something to each other and we talk it out and we smooth things over and we move on with life.

Nothing about what I said about Dawg is directly true. He always calls, unless there is a reason why he can’t. He always greets me and the girls. He may go right to the bed, but he’s waiting for his Squishy Poppy (that’s me) to join him so we can talk about our days or take a nap together. The only time he has ever thrown Twitter off him is when he’s asleep and she bites or scratches him and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing.

Dawg is a good man. A very good man. When he read over the post ahead of its publish, his statement was “wow, I sound like a douchebag.” Since then he has been telling me over and over that he loves me and that we’re never breaking up. That’s who Dawg really is.

I do hate feet, but I find Dawg’s feet charming. I’ll even touch them. I think it’s hysterical when Twitter finds pleasure in carrying Dawg’s socks around.

I have had fear like any rational person would, about uprooting my entire Vermont life to try life in NYC. About walking into an already existing and highly complicatedly complex world. If I wanted simple I would have stayed on that couch in Vermont continuing to watch a big screen TV to pass the hours, but I didn’t do that… I chose the harder, more rewarding path.

How many times have I said I love it here? How I love riding the train? How I love my new job? How I love living in the apartment with Dawg and our furbabies? Many. I love him, I love his family, I love his friends, I love his “bad habits”, I love him when he acts like a boy and does silly things, and he always loves me, my family, my friends, my “bad habits”, when I act like a girl and do bitchy things.

I mean everything to Dawg, and he means everything to me. This is true love. True love with communication. A formula for success, as you all knew it already was.

It’s all good here.

Please accept my apologies if you felt the heartache in my post and were angry when you found out this was a joke. That post was a work of fiction, written based on life experience.