So, add in one boyfriend to my life mix. Good times, right?
Well, mostly. Right now it is safe to say that if I was a werewolf, I would have power-shredded his ass. Probably about three times now.
It's a hundred little things, culminating with not being able to get a decent night's sleep for the last week. This made last night's "Let's go out with my clients so I can get weeknight shitfaced" adventure a very crabby experience for sober me, who has to do real work today. Only my insistence that I needed sleep last night versus turning things into an all-night adventure capped with sexcapades makes me the evil, vindictive bitch here. Not the one in the other room playing metal and hard rock with room shaking volume and pouting.
And I'm trying to work. Really. I have not given up on the day and cried and wished I had my own personal vampire to whisk me away to the Isle Esme, or at least Alaska. I haven't done that. I haven't wondered if maybe it wasn't just easier to live alone with a massive secret Twilight obsession than have a warm, real boyfriend who is wonderful most of the time. No, don't be silly. I'm not longing for the days where I could get actual projects done and read as much fan fiction as I wanted. No, no, no - why would I do that?
*Cue loud guitars screeching*
Okay, fine. I'm throwing a massive personal pity party starting NOW. There's chocolate ice cream in the freezer and I'm having it for lunch. It should be a helluva day and you're all invited to join. The first person to show up with a margarita in a bag or a vampire wearing only a bow is my hero.