Because bad taste is better than no taste at all.....

Sunday, August 2, 2015

#318: Pen Pals

I stare at the computer screen, watching the cursor blink. I'm waiting on a reply. This is slow going, as the person at the other end of the conversation is obviously doing more than just talking to me. I curb my impatience and resist the urge to ask what else is he doing? Or more like, who else is he talking to? I stifle these thoughts, it isn't like we're together or anything. 

Another message pops up. This one is from someone in a different country than the first one. Sorry i disappeared, it says. We had a bad storm and the power went out. But i found something very interesting to do in the dark while i thought of you...... 

What am I doing? My mind constantly questions itself when I am on this website. 

Some of the conversations are amusing. Some I pass over altogether.  

My mind wanders now, to all the things I need to do tomorrow: Put some money on the phone, get groceries. Drop off more things at the thrift store. This last thing gives me a twinge; there are things that are going that I never thought I would give up, things I would never just give over to random strangers. But I do not need them any more, and maybe others can find joy in them. Nothing very valuable, mind you, I save the valuable things for those I care for, for those I know will take care of them. I'm only losing things with memories attached to them, memories I'd just as soon purge from my life. 

Yesterday I dropped off some of Meg's baby things with a coworker, who is expecting her first very soon. Mostly blankets, because you can never have too many of those. I managed to thin out some things considerably, to the point where most of her stuff fits in a cardboard box, one that once held printer paper. Rather than a ginormous plastic box which can now be used to hold other things, mainly, those stuffed animals I haven't sorted through yet. 

This week marks the beginning of the third that I have slept in the spare bedroom. I'd like to say that I'm lonely, or that I miss sleeping in the other room. However, I cannot truthfully say either of these things. To be actually able to SLEEP, without being woken up at 3 am by Dent's snoring, or the bed moving as he "twitches" in his sleep. I see now how some couples sleep in different rooms and it's OK. I used to wonder this, how it worked, how people fared when they were a couple, but no longer shared a bed. Now I know. It's not as bad as you'd think.

I think about the person in the first conversation, who ought to be getting ready for bed right about now.... A bit on the tall side, resembling a bit like Rick Steves, just slightly pudgier in the face. He likes to garden, and sent me photographs of some of the plants he's growing in his yard. I click on the message box. You must be getting ready for bed? I send. It's been more than 30 minutes since he'd replied to anything. Maybe he's already asleep? I think.

I look out the window. I really ought to be taking care of my tomatoes. They want cutting back. Tomorrow, I tell myself. I have been terribly lax on the outdoor things. Mostly because it's been a million degrees in typical summer fashion, and the mosquitoes have gotten brave enough to carry you away even through the mosquito repellent you coat yourself with. 

Tomorrow, I tell myself again. Or Thursday, my next day off from work. 

I'm getting good at this procrastinating thing. 

I click on the second conversation, the one about doing things in the dark. I type a series of dots (..........), because I don't really know what to say to this. It's been about 10 minutes since I got any sort of reply from this one. Maybe I should sign off, he obviously isn't interested I'm thinking. Or maybe another storm? No, it still shows he is online. 

................And always, always the questions in my mind. Are these people serious? Or are they just being nice? It is difficult to tell with a person in real life, damn near impossible on the internet. I've always had this problem with people, you see. People are nice...and.. 

Do I believe it? Mostly. 

Understand it? Not so much.

I click back on the first conversation. Well, if I don't talk to you before you go to sleep, hope you had pleasant dreams and a good day at work tomorrow   I type. 

Hopefully my dreams will be sweet, but I never remember mine. 

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