Just let me crawl under a rock and die alone....please.

It has been too long since I screamed one of these out. I just want to have an hour to myself. I want to enjoy the nothingness.

I am dealing with Vlad who I think may be lying to me. He is constantly in search of a piece of ass. He has a live-in girlfriend. She knows nothing about him. He spends his life keeping it from her and sharing it with me. I think he stays with her because of fear. Fear of being alone. I think she keeps him around for the same reason. If your going to life a fake life, shouldn't it be exciting?

My husband left for a business trip today. I was so proud if myself for not asking him if he remembered qtips and nosing into his luggage to check. I just want him to have a successful trip. I think going away and working at a different site will help give him a break from the monotony of everyday work. Michael will have a chance to visit with his family during this trip. I think that is great. The only problem with this scenario is my husband is not the most organized person, or perhaps I am overly organized.

The preparations for this trip started in full swing last night. All week long I was asking about this trip. Wondering about the flight info, rental car and directions. Michael has told me on several occasions that I am nagging. I see it as helpful reminders for a prosperous trip. So I don't want to nag. I was so proud of myself because I didn't this time. I asked how he was getting to the airport and he was pretty much indifferent. I thought, if he's indifferent, what the fuck am I worried about? So I let it go.

Fast forward to about noon the next day. Michael calls all pissed off because he left his magazine and driving directions on the shuttle bus. I started to ask why he didn't buy the magazine in the airport terminal and was met with abrupt egging on type lingo. Normal Oddgirl would start to get shitty, but super cool Oddgirl was asking if she could get the info to him, and calming him down. Then I thought he actually bought the magazine at the gas station because it would be cheaper. Hmmm...wow. Forethought. Holy goat balls! I need to reinforce this concept. I said, "Don't worry, buy another magazine and we will figure the rest out."

Fast forward to 20 minutes later. Michael calls. He can't remember who his rental car reservation is through. No problem, I am pulling into Vlad's garage in his girlfriend's car. I was coming back from getting her oil changed for him so he doesn't get busted for not doing his chores while she was on vacation. Let me just get into her house, sit down at her computer, and access the info for you. Still, I was super fucking cool Oddgirl. Not a PEEP.

Vlad is now sitting there contemplating the swing of his relationship, and I need to listen. To his credit he always listens to my bullshit. I wonder though how honest he is with himself, but that's a whole other chapter in this saga. Vlad drove me home the block and a half to my house. My shoes would of melted to the pavement if I tried to walk. It was like 112 degrees today.

After checking the mail I attempted to pee uninterrupted. Big Mistake. I spent the next 3 hours on the phone with my mother and her girlfriend explaining what I would do if I were in their situation. You see my mother wants to move to Arizona from Indiana. I'm fine with that. The problem is selling her condo. She hired some jackass realtor to help her. He did nothing and when the contract expired she was supposed to go different one (friend of her alternative family). Instead she decided she would do for sale by owner. Well she didn't even do that. I told her at least get a lawyer to look over any contracts, but what do I know. I just closed on my first house in February. Blah, blah, blah....diarrhea of the mouth...blah. So there is a mentally unstable, social security collecting, lesbian attempting to rent to own my mother's condo. The only problem is she's balked on the payment and contract arrangements four times now. My mom wants to know what I would do in that situation. The answer; I would never be in that situation. I would of called the fucking realtor.

Fast forward. Yogurt and peanuts for dinner. No time to cook realtor friend of mine stopped by. She wants to know what's going on with my friends who purchased a house from her. They are backing out for the 4th time. Look stage left, the telephone rings. Why it's my friends who are buying the house from her. I am not picking up. Can't take it. Me wants to kills them. To kills everybody.

Fast Forward. Michael calls he had to charged the fully paid for and reimbursable rental car. $362.36. Super cool Oddgirl, be super cool. Supportive is the word of the day.

Forward. Michael calls. He's approaching Fort Wayne. His laptop isn't working right. He has no driving directions. Super Cool to the rescue. I am getting on Mapquest as we speak. No big deal. Super cool, be cool. Mapquest isn't working the way it should. O.k. try again. Michael is growing impatient. Michael has done it millions of times. I am fucking it up. I can't see the words plainly in front of my face. He's right about the website while he's driving in a rental car, in the dark, with no directions. Losing cool now. Not because directions lost, because indignation of Michael over the website. Oh. His cell phone went dead.

Future Fast Forward: Me under a rock, my rock, by myself. If you need advice on homes, rental cars,cell phones,love, lesbianism,packing for a trip,knowing what voids a contract,skimpy dinner cuisine,the life of oil, or directions to my rock, go fuck yourself. I don't want to be super cool.