Saturday, September 17, 2011

When one door closes, another one opens.

How exactly is it September already? How come we didn’t get a summer this year? How is it that I only got to wear my summer wardrobe (and by ‘summer wardrobe’ I mean my one pair of jean shorts and one slash two of the 1000 tank tops I own) approximately four times, but had to wear a hoody every other day of the past three months? And how is it that I’m NOT returning to school this week?! THAT is the weirdest of them all.

For the past, oh I don’t know, 23 years, I’ve spent the last week of August/first few days of September preparing for a school year of some sort. From back-to-school clothes shopping to school supplies shopping (is it weird I enjoyed this more than back-to-school clothes shopping?) to getting back in the habit of going to bed at a normal time so I could get up at 7:55 am every morning (in the past few years 7:55 am has become sleeping in for me. It could be aging, but it’s probably more due to the fact that my job requires me to begin at 4 am…so I’m up at 3:15 am…and I enjoy this?). Now, this year, I’ve spent the last week of August/first few days of September living a normal, adult life consisting of working eight hours a day, five days a week. Not buying my textbooks, not putting lined paper in empty binders, not packing my school bag 10 days in advance, and not planning the first six outfits of the school year. It’s completely foreign to me.

I’ve always told people “I can’t wait to be finished school”. I think that was a lie. I miss it.

Remember all the plans I had for this summer? A new car, trips to see K, abundant amounts of time spent with BFF drinking pepperoni caesars…well a few variations of that list actually did happen. I got a new rear window on my car, I saw K when she came to Vancouver, and I spent a good chunk of time with BFF until my bank account retaliated and no longer wanted me to consume anymore pepperoni caesars. That’s fine. I got my revenge by frequenting Trader Joe’s multiple times a week. I went from getting substantial amounts of groceries every time I went, to not being able to find anything to get because I went so often. It was a sign to bring it down a notch.

Now I’m going to force myself to be ready to move forward and get excited for fall. It does mean that I get to wear boots and scarves and sweaters (except I’ve actually been wearing sweaters all “summer”, so that one doesn’t really count). I get to sleep in pajamas with all my blankets wrapped around me like a cocoon. I get to go for brisk walks with a hot drink as opposed to sweating after four steps on my way to get a cold drink.

This fall, however, will be missing somebody along with missing school. OverSharer is taking off to Greece for three months. She claims it’s for educational purposes, I claim it’s to eat food and sit in the sun. WHY ELSE WOULD SHE NEED SUNSCREEN? Over the past few months her and I have become close.  We bonded over work gossip, her oversharing stories, food, and, well, more food. Everything to do with food. Buying it, cooking it, eating it, ordering it, looking at it, smelling it, everything. There isn’t anybody else that understands my food obsession passion like her. She gets it when I describe my dinner and get more excited than me a five year old at Christmas. She gets it when I’ve created a new snack and I squeal like a five year old at DisneyLand. But most importantly, she gets it when I convince her to try it and she gets as excited and squealy as me. True.Friendship.

Work will be less interesting without her stories. I’ll just say "it describes my symptoms ONE HUNDRED PERCENT, I totes have it", and leave it at that. Except I’ll also add "looks the same going in as coming out", and know that she won’t care because I was the one that wanted to witness it. I don’t anymore.

So now she’s gone, but she has an international text messaging plan, THANK THE STARS ABOVE, so she won’t be completely out of the loop. She's really not missing much by not being here anyway. Well, she is missing out on having the privilege of knowing my newfound kindred spirit. You know when you meet someone and you just know you two will be friends and get along like peas and carrots? Like steak and potatoes? Like milk and cereal? (I think you get it.) Well that was our first encounter. I loved him from the start. (He might be scared.) And you know how I'm obsessed with basically everything I like? Well let's just say people are included. 

But don't worry, I've already told him I'm not obsessed in an I'm-going-to-stalk-and-kill-you kind of way. Just in an I'm-going-to-stalk-you kind of way. And he's okay with it. At least he better be. Kindred spirits are always okay with each other's decisions.

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