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And just as quickly and Liz Phair's cd entered my life, it's been replaced by the soundtrack from Scrubs. There's a song about a monkey. How bad can it be? It's been a relaxing weekend. Just what I needed to cleanse Fuckhead out my brain. Friday night I stayed up very late watching movies that made me cry and TV that made me laugh 'til I almost pee. Played some more DDR until I was too tired to pass the levels and then fell asleep to an Unwrapped episode on beer. Ah, yes, a good evening.

Saturday, I took care of some paperwork. My bank account is still in my married name, mostly out of laziness on my part. But since my house loan will be in my current name, I decided to make sure everything was in sync. It was interesting to explain to the nice man at Bank of America that yes I am changing my name on my accounts and yes here are the divorce papers to prove it, but yes I'm still staying on the accounts with my ex-husband. He just looked at me and said "well, if that's what works for you all." Just another thing to take care of when Jeremy gets home from California.

One thing I learned as a divorced woman is that it's very hard to clean your previous married name out of your life. You will always get mail from random places addressed to your married name. You will still find random accounts (your TGIFriday's frequent diner's club card or what-have-you) that are still in your married name. My mother confessed that her social security card is still in her previous married name and she hasn't had that name for nearly 40 years. I don't let it bother me. It didn't seem practical to go on a "scorched Earth" campaign and rid my life of anything labelled Mrs. BlackBear. I know who I am.

The one thing that got to me, though, was going over to the old house. I went over to check on the cat and fish while Brian is still out of town. It's difficult to walk around a house that you used to live in ... that you remember very good times and some very bad times in ... and not feel a little sad. It was even harder to see things that I owned ... Jer and I owned together ... that aren't a part of my world anymore. I couldn't find a pen anywhere in the house to leave a note for Brian. Hell, I couldn't find paper. Nothing was where I would have put it. Things change, I suppose. It's still just sad. I left my list of reminders for Brian and played with the cat for a bit and then headed home. A short drive in the sun in my fantastic car did wonders for my mood.

Last night was a fine evening. As says, it's nice to just have "empty hours" with him. We picked up the Maxim magazine in which he is now featured (page 42) and perused the "back to school" reading section of Barnes & Noble. We make the scoffing noises at each other over the classic books that each of us had read and the other hadn't. In the end my find of the evening was the Create Your Own Erotic Fantasy book. It's a little hokey, but what do you expect when you mix "one handed reading" erotica with a "choose your own adventure" format? It literally has choices like:

  • If you want to ditch the sex party and make plans for Saturday night with Peter, please turn to page 73.
  • If you're looking foward to getting naked with strangers, please turn to page 79.

    • Again, not Anais Nin, but entertaining all the same.

    Today has been a day of naps and snacks. I have felt like a kitten in the sun. This is just the recharge that I needed to prepare myself for next week and beyond.

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    I am so absolutely and completely exhausted. Actually, I think I'm beyond exhausted. I don't think I'll spell check this entry, I'm so apathetically tired. FuckHead at work has incurred my wrath yet again. He basically can not be in my presence unless his head is on a large pointy stick. I've never been so mad at another human being in a very long time. But there will be a phone call about it in the morning and something will come of it. I am so very tired of cleaning up after him and his continuous fuckups. Yet again, he has gone the extra mile to not just fuck up a database but put it into a complicated script so that the last command ... a sort of piece de resistance if you will ... is to completely trash said database over and over. Any idiot can fuck up a database, but yet again, you have to really be something to plan ahead and schedule it for the morning when you won't be in the office. That's okay. Genie will fix it if anything goes wrong. No problem. Sigh.

    I have gone in circles in my head on what I hope to accomplish this weekend. And as of now I think it's going to be nothing. I might vacuum if the urge hits me.

    My one bright spot today was that my new bag arrived. I ordered the Timbuk2 bike messenger bag that I've been eye-ing for a while now (ever since and I talked about bags at her place and I started researching them online). I must say it is a king among men of bags ... or something. Bite me, it's late. But my bag has a special pocket (that sounds naughty) and reflective strips and a "stabilizing cross strap" and is even left-handed. Who would have thought? All other bags pale in comparison.

    Being that all I can think or talk about is how fucking tired I am, I haven't been much of a good conversationalist. This has made things hard, to say the least. Apparently my communication skills range from "not talking about it" to "wow, we didn't really need to hear all this" without a lot of in between. So I'm working on some listening skills. They didn't teach a lot of that in all my university classes. Guess that's a graduate level course.

    But enough about me ...