Dan will be a snappy dresser, damn it!

I lied. Yesterday. Yep. I realized I jumped the gun saying I was off Zoloft. In actuality, I just took my very last dose. All 6.25 MGs of it. Now I'm weaned. Or will be tomorrow (?). But what's 6.25 MGs still in my system? Surely not enough to rein in the compulsive behavior that sent me to the shrinks in the first place. Hmmm. Let's see how long it takes before I haul off and spiral into the OCD abyss.

How 'bout now? Okay, NOW:

I had a decaf today. It sucked. Only got through half of it. Probably best b/c it's crap too. It only made me want the real stuff. So I'm just gonna keep biting the bullet drooling over Dan's freshly brewed stuff. I don't hold it against him. We're not one of those infertile couples where if I must suffer, so should he. The way I see it, I get to keep my ass planted to the couch eating bon-bons watching horrible daytime Taiwanese television while he drags his ass to a cold, dark room doing repetitive computing. Yes, it's creative, but I have no idea how he does that work without going CRAZY. Wait. What am I saying? That ship already sailed.

On another Dan note, I purchased grown-up Garanimals for him today. I finally hit the wall seeing him wearing clothes the thrift stores would smirkingly REJECT. Anyone who knows him is vigorously nodding right now. I complained to him about his homeless 13 year old look and he reminded me I buy all his clothes and I should get him stuff I like to see him in. So simple. So I'm the retard. Except it's a bit more challenging with him b/c it involves not just choosing the attire, but getting multiples of the same pants and shirts b/c he doesn't go with me.

He CANNOT STAND to go shopping. Can't stand it. (We must work around each others' idiosyncrasies. Repeat after me...)

So I chose, purchased, and schlepped (all on foot - needed the exercise after being floored for the last 2 weeks on these drugs...gotta tap my energy while I've got it) these heavy bags back to our apt. and lovingly set them out on the bed.

Proud of myself for not being a lump, for choosing items that were good looking, of mediocre quality, and reasonably priced, I stood there like a cat with a recently mangled bird set gently out on the welcome mat and with a wave of a Price is Right gesture, with bated breath I awaited seeing the JOY wash over his face.

D: Mind if I rest before I try them on?

K: *dejectedly* no.

And it was true. I really didn't and don't mind b/c if Dan truly had his way, he'd go naked. He only gets dressed in order to avoid being arrested. The guy could give less of a shit about what he wears.

The spree was especially well-timed as splayed on the bed amongst the multiple heavy jeans was a bright & shiny new, light jacket he desperately needed since the one he brought here we had originally purchased only for Halloween costume purposes when we "played" the sweet couple in The Shining.

(That was the Halloween we vowed to dress up only in "sexy" Halloween gear as pretty much everyone at the party wanted nothing to do with our unattractive stab [ha] at dressing up like Shelly Duvall and Jack Nicholson.) It was too small, had paint splatters on it from when I took it as my own during our Huron project (when I served as our General Contractor, walking around with my dyke walk swagger [or so I was told]), and was most definitely another thrift store reject candidate.

So the jacket had all that going for it before Drew's home-seeking puppy, Tuco (Drew found and is fostering), took a piss on it and then followed it up with a solid puking as they were returning from being skunked yet again on their Sunday afternoon hunt for surf.

Oy. And this is me with some Z still in my system.