Man oh man, vacation is over. WOE is truly me.

I’m having a little trouble falling asleep, although I’m f’ing tired. I’m afraid tomorrow morning will find me less than bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Here’s something interesting, unrelated to the vacation. (I’ll write about that tomorrow, when I have time and energy.)

This card was in the mail when I got home with a return address I don’t know and no name.

I’m pretty sure “S-” is my ex. The one ex that in retrospect I truly wish I hadn’t met. The ex who told me my over-emotional behavior during the week after my mom died was just a pathetic attempt to get him back in an effort to stave off the loneliness of being almost 40 and single. Gee, and I thought it was grief.

Yeah, whatever, um. By the way, how far the fuck could you be from my life, yet still think you’re important enough for the breezy initial signoff?

GOD, I am SOOOOO happy that there is sufficient distance now that I don’t really know if “S-” is you.

Meanwhile, M. doesn’t give me cards with angels and sentiment. He treats me well.

Let’s see now, there’s “S-” if “S-” is who I think he is, who never did anything for me without calculating what it did for him, and a card. On the other hand, there is M., who incidentally I refer to as M. but who would probably sign his whole name, because a cute little bit of insecurity would make him worry that I wouldn’t know which M., in short M. who is devoid of your narcissism, who just spent a whole week making sure I felt special and didn’t need a card.

I wonder with whom I would want to spend my time and energy. Here’s a hint, I will waste no more on you, “S-” of mystery. Get on with your fucking life already, I have and I couldn’t possibly be this happy if you were in it. I dub this the last “S-” laden post ever.

More importantly, here’s how I spent my last day of vacation: