My poor sweet husband
2006-02-24, 2:12 p.m.

My poor sweet husband. We had a convergence of events that started last Friday that resulted in no sex for a week. It wasn�t that I was angry, or that something was going wrong in our relationship. It was the combination of the following that left me befuddled and beflummoxed and quite frankly uninterested in performing:

1. An �I have no friends� crisis that made me really sad and introspective. And probably self-pitying and pouty, but this is MY journal, and if I say I was completely mature about it, I was. No pouting here.

2. My period. Please note my steadfast refusal to say �Aunt Flo�. That�s just stupid. Call it what it is. It�s not like �Aunt Flo� is disguising anything. YOU�RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE.

3. New glasses altering my perception of reality and making my brain really tired and confused and fuzzy. I kept staring at my hands, as their new proximity to my face � out there at the ends of my arms - really fascinated me. I did mushrooms once in the 80s, and this was a bit reminiscent of that experience, without the visual and auditory hallucinations. Which suck and are very scary, by the way. Don�t try the mushrooms.

4. The fucking dog, Mrs. Beans, acquiring a new bad sleep habit, i.e. howling at possums in the middle of the night, every single night.

Mrs. Beans says �What?�

All of that sadness and crampiness and altered perception and lack of sleep worked together contiguously to make me very sleepy and cranky and flat for a week. AND I HATE IT WHEN I�M FLAT.

You know, just yuck. Flat. Like you�ve been robbed of your personality.

Here�s how the above-listed heretoforementioned items have been resolved:

1. I have a dinner date with a new internet friend/stalker next week. I love meeting new people! Also, I got a call from a school-friend (you know, the mom of one of LG�s friends at school), and while the 7th graders are having their ice skating party tonight, some of the cooler 7th grade moms are going out to dinner together, and I got invited. I�m popular! I�m necessary for the success of any social gathering, obviously.

2. I just got over it. Duh. It runs its course, and then it�s gone. Each time, I think �maybe for good this time.� Each time, I am wrong.

3. I�ve been wearing them every day � have given myself a week to shit or get off the pot, so to speak. Today was my self-imposed deadline to either get used to them, or return them, and I am happy to report that I can�t see a freaking thing without them now, so they shall indeed NOT be returned.

4. Mrs. Beans has found herself crated and closed off in a room by her widdle self the past few nights, so as to insulate her from the sounds of the midnight possums. She will be crated for a week, rather than lolling about on the couch, in order to get her sleep habits back on track. We have to rock her world every now and then, or she�ll start thinking she�s in charge of us. Just like a baby, but letting her cry it out doesn�t really work. So far, it�s working. Sleep is interrupted only by my own neurotic tendencies to wake up and worry about some work-related detail, rather than the dog�s demented yodel.

And here�s what the resolution of these items has resulted in so far:

1. I have gotten enough sleep the past two nights.

2. I�m focused.

3. I feel good physically.

4. I feel good mentally, like I�m a person that other people might like to hang out with. I know I shouldn�t get my self-esteem from other folks� opinions, and that�s not it: it�s more like that little part of me that likes to socialize has gotten back on track.

And so you know what finally happened last night, don�t you? DON�T YOU?

Well, it�s not really that simple. OF COURSE there�s a story to it.

I got home, and Don (see �about� over there in the sidebar (I have a sidebar!) if you need to catch up on who the hell is Don) was there, and he�s been brewing his own beer lately, and he had a sample for DW and me to try. (Note: it was good.) He stood in the kitchen, looking out at the rest of the house, and said �I really like this house.�

�It likes you, too,� I replied. �What can we do to get you back out here more often?�

This launched a very long conversation regarding his Very Bad Girlfriend, She Whom We Call Courtney, and long story short, she hates my and DW�s guts more than we ever imagined, we don�t think much of her, there�s a lot of small town gossip and shit going on, Don doesn�t particularly like dating her, although she�s a fun drinking buddy, and he realized that dating a woman who might cause one to lose almost-lifelong friends is not a good idea.

Not that WE were going to dump him; he was in the process of ditching and dumping us, and once he realized what he was feeling forced into doing, he decided who he really wanted to dump. Not us. I mean, look at us. Would YOU want to dump this:

Laura says �What?�

This was a two-hour conversation, during which one bottle of wine was consumed by Don and me, and DW had to go upstairs and take a Medal of Honor break, because he can�t go that long without playing some kind of video game.

But at the end of the night, after talking for two hours, and my consuming half a bottle of wine and a handful of Ruffles for dinner, and Don moseying his way home, DW and I finally broke our one-week drought.

Other good news: I�m liking my new glasses, and even got a compliment from a STRANGE MAN in my comments on them yesterday (Thanks, Mark! I�m seeing through them right now, and am keeping them).

And more good news: I�m going out with friends tonight. My own friends � not the wives of DW�s golf buddies.

I�m going to leave you with a transcript of a conversation I had with my sister, EB, regarding her sister-in-law MB:

Me: I know MB�s been kind of busy, what with her getting married on Saturday, but I had another run-in with that godawful attorney that we both know, and I wanted to send her an email about it. But my email would contain this whole story wherein I said �Suck my dick� to somebody, and I�m not sure how MB would take that. Is she someone you cay say �Suck my dick� to?

EB: I�m not sure. I don�t have her quite figured out yet. Most of the time I think she�s really cool, but then sometimes I think maybe there are things that you can�t really say to her.

Me: Well, then I won�t send her my story, because �Suck my dick� is the funniest part of it.

EB: Is this that same attorney y�all were talking about my wedding brunch? Don�t get her started talking about the law and all that stuff; those stories just go on and on, and I don�t want her talking about that around me. It drives me crazy. It never ends.

Me: Well, what are some topics that we CAN talk about around you?

EB: I dunno. Sucking dicks?