I have a confession. I’m sometimes mean to aaa agents on the phone. It’s definitely because my original agent messed up so bad and frustrates me so much. I just found out that he registered my car as having 25,000 more miles on it than it did when I bought it. So I have to fix that whole mess. But maybe I’m mean to them because I work in customer service, and people are mean to me all day. Maybe I’m a hypocrite. Or maybe I’m just a horrible person.
I also have to confess that I don’t write like I used to. I’m not as interesting. Or I’m too busy. Or maybe I just can’t write anymore. I haven’t worked on my book, which doesn’t even exist anymore. I hardly write poetry. All my writing is complaining. And I don’t complain that much anymore. Or maybe it’s all I do.
Another confession. I’m learning that it’d be significantly easier to find a new house to rent if I didn’t had a dog. But I love my dog. And having a dog is one of favorite new things about myself. She’s basically my best friend. And she has more personality and anxiety than most people.
I really want to fast forward to when I have my own house, where I can put my own touch. And have more dogs.
I don’t love the rain as much as I used to. It’s starting to inhibit more than rejuvenate. Walking my dog, biking, driving. It’s all more difficult. But I still have a dream of living even more in the rain. Portland still is a dream sometimes.
I have a confession. I don’t hate Valentine’s Day like I once did. But I don’t love it either. But I do love Bobby. I never knew love could be so easy. I never knew love could be like this. After more than a year, I still get excited about spending time with him. He’s my best friend, if Roxy isn’t. My best friend even likes him. He has been approved for life. I love him love him love him.
Happy Valentine’s Day.