Every evening this week, I've hoped for quiet time; to read or clean the apartment. But every night I've had something going on. I end up not getting anything done; and worse, not turning in until at least midnight.

That's the way the cookie crumbles. Monday, I drove to my friend D's house in Kentucky for pizza and laughs: I'm happy that my move up here hasn't impacted any good friendships. Then I had my date on Tuesday. Wednesday I spent time looking for job sites on-line -- I even applied for one. (My first, electronically. A management job in "the financial services industry". It sounds horrible. No cover letter, too; isn't that weird?)

Thursday I worked out at the gym and moving garbage (the old dining room ceiling) out to the curb. Sounds like a Beatles song, eh?

Tonight, I'm heading off to the opera. Rigoletto. Which my friends are calling Rigotoni, ah haa haa. I'm going with hushpuppy darnitall. I'm meeting him and his high-powered BIPC friends beforehand at a revamped downtown loft.

*sigh* More networking opportunities?

I don't know. They're all engineers, and I have no background -- or interest -- in that. Instead, perhaps I can get them to comment on how they survive mind-numbing careers. On second thought, as I help them uncork another bottle, I don't think I need to ask...

And on that note
I haven't been drinking as much since the move back to Dayton. I don't know if I would be a "problem drinker", and I enjoy drinking with friends; but it's also wise to discourage a malignancy that might come from my current environment.

I'm also a jerk
I never called Jumpseat back. I said I would. He's already called twice. (I can tell with a cell phone.) I was planning to tell him "It's not you, it's me," then we could be friends and go to a movie, maybe.

What I want is to find a bit of calm.

Hell, my life is a Beatles' song...

I went on a date tonight.

"Jumpseat" answered my personal ad. We met for coffee, then on for pizza and beer. Jumpseat is a former military guy and now a flight attendant. He was pleasant and probably very likeable, but I didn't give him the attention he deserved. I'm not of a very date-like mind right now.

Jumpseat has light blue eyes and a friendly, open face. He poofs up his thinning hair. He did most of the talking, which was fine. He didn't look at me directly until at least the middle of our date.

Jumpseat's only boyfriend was a Whore (!!!!) who Lied (!!!!!) about being Monogamous. They're stuck co-owning a house together. Luckily, however, Jumpseat tells me he is Over Him, and Has Moved On.

If I was in a feisty mood, you would hear me pulling out the soapbox: I've lost count of the number of times I've heard this story.

But I'm not feeling feisty, I'm feeling... tired.

My extracurricular activities lately have been less about joyful physical expression, than about ... hmmm... anger? Last weekend I was with a couple who are "committed, but play together". They held each others' hands while I took turns banging them. (And people say Romance is dead.) They wanted me to bareback, but I refused and they kicked me out because one developed an allergic reaction to the latex.

For better or worse, I'll tell Jumpseat I'd be wasting his time if we met again. "It's not you, it's me."

You bloggies know I'm telling the truth.