I Took A Louisville Slugger To Both Headlights…

Today has been about the least interesting day I’ve had in a while.  I work 7.30 to 12.00 every day, but they needed me to stay until close today, at 3.30, so I did.  I really didn’t want to.  I like working in the mornings, then coming home, eating, reading with the dogs in my lap, and napping until dinner.

I operate nicely in the evening after a nap.  I’m less enraged, I guess.  Today, I got a chance to read before I had to start cooking, but I’ve been on edge since I got home, wishing I could have had a chance to sneak a nap in.  But I got home at about 4, read for an hour, and started dinner at 5.

Chicken marsala, on angel hair pasta.  I should’ve taken pictures, because it turned out fucking gorgeously.  Delicious, and absolute just right.  It was not easy to time everything right, but I managed.  10 minutes after my aunt got home, we were sitting down to dinner, and both my mom and my aunt kept saying, "it’s good, it’s just right, you did a great job."

The thing is, I’ve done it about 5 times before – made the marsala – and I always worry that it’s not going to turn out right every single time.  And every time, it turns out beautifully.

Anyway.  I spent about 50 minutes writing a reply to an email I got this afternoon.  I kept thinking, "what do I say to this?" and then just… Typing.  Anything I could think I was feeling, I typed.  It turned out that it wasn’t much, but it’s what it is.

I’ve been thinking about this song for a while now.  It’s not that I want to be the girl who does all that to a guy if he cheats on me, but I want to be the girl who’s strong enough to look him in the face and say, "you rat bastard, how could you even think about doing that?" and watch him try to put together the words he thinks I want to hear – "baby, I didn’t mean it, she meant nothing to me, I swear, I was drunk and she was standing there, and the whole time, I was thinking of you" – and then say, "but you did it, and that’s where you went wrong.  Because she’ll never be me," and walk away with my chin up.

I don’t want to be the simpering girl who takes the bastard back because she thinks he’s all she can have.  I don’t want to be the girl who let’s him get away with it because she thinks it was just the once, that he’ll keep her, and won’t touch another girl ever again.

Fuck.  I don’t even know what the fuck I’m babbling about here.  Fuck me… I’m going to shower and then hit my bed with a thud.

– before he cheats – carrie underwood –