But, we learned a new rule: When you're living with someone, and you're (at the very least) an hour and a half, or (at the most) eight hours away from anyone you can seek refuge with, then going to bed angry is sometimes your only option--especially when it's 5 AM you're still fighting, and you have to be awake for work at 8:30.
Hey, shit happens. And sometimes it's flushable. And by flushable, I mean, both parties wake up with the realization that they were both being shit heads the night before.
Something I didn't mention in my last post was that Adjusting to Living Together is difficult. Especially for people like Addie and myself, who are used to, and value, our alone time just as much as we value our time together.
When I was in college, I took a personality quiz that an aquaintance of mine developed. Through a system of random questions (they're always random questions) she mapped out my personality, past present and future. While the past and present were on the mark, I obviously couldn't speak for the future. But one remark was curious, as she said I'd be someone "who could create a life and family with one person, but you would need a room to yourself where you could go, some place your own." it rang true then, when I was 22, and still now, 27. And Addie is a person who also needs a room to himself. But, we live in a roomless basement apartment. How do two non-co-dependent people really live comfortably in such tight quarters?
This, boys and girls, is what we call Adjust and Compromise.
And I'll let you know when we've figured it out.
ANYWHO. I've had a Banner Wednesday. It started when my boss came in and threw me a free, delicious brownie from Mountain Deli. It's the second brownie I've encountered in 27 years that I'd die for, as I never crave chocolate and am not a brownie fan in general.
THEN I got a free (surprisingly authentic looking) fake Coach bag handed down to me from my boss' wife. I mean, it's real leather, has all the insignia, and the only thing that's not "real" about it is that the serial number is one digit off. However, considering I could give a flying fuck about the Coach brand, and carrying a Coach bag has never been something I've strived for. But this bag is really nifty. And I love a free, real leather purse.
|my other, more awesome, non-Coach bag in the backround|
|work is hard|
As I said on facebook, the webinar re-affirmed my decision not to major in marketing and advertising. Don't get me wrong--I love laughing at statistics of easily duped people, and it's always interesting to see how far back I can roll my eyes whenever I hear a marketing exec talk about "brand imaging," "viral marketing," "synergizing customer bases," and "blast and implementation of digital resources for an expansive audience."
Blow me. These things should be titled "Anything You Learned About Marketing Just by Being Born after 1983" or "How to be More Annoying and Get Fewer Results While Spending More Money." Further, it shouldn't be called marketing. Let's just call it what is, "manipulation." The only thing you need to be a successful salesman/marketing exec is a large dose of charisma and firm grasp of psychology.
And speaking of things I've posted to Facebook, this is one of the Wells Fargo "fun facts" that are all littered all over downtown Hendersonville:
I love the smell of irony in the morning.
AFTER work, I took my paycheck to Goodwill, where I found 3 vintage shirts and only spent $13.
|awesomely weird and sad shirts based on Liza Minelli musicals|
|OMG PEGASUS AND BUTTON TAB SHOULDERS|
|I love old clothes. I've never seen a JCPenny brand shirt in my life, and I've shopped there since I was born.|
FINALLY, Addie and I went and celebrated $.35 wing night, where I had too many beers and I'm suddenly falling asleep at the keyboard.
ONWARD TOMORROW TO VIRGINIA.