So I've been in the apartment for 41 hours and I'm all depressed and stir-crazy. Friday my principal treated me (and several other teachers) rather shabbily, and I made the mistake of taking it personally. I was in tears for a while, and I was going to discuss it with her, but in the end decided it was pointless. I'm not going to change her mind, and I would just get more frustrated. I've decided to take it up with my union representative instead.
I usually go out with the girls on Friday and Mr. B. on Saturday, but he and I discussed it and were going to switch it up. That way, I might actually make it to church on Sunday morning (which I didn't due to a particularly annoying "visit from my friend," as my students euphemistically call it. Hee). Well, after I got the girls to agree, Mr. B. begged off, saying he was too tired. Straw. Camel's back. You get the picture. I told him that was fine, but started crying after we hung up the phone. Laura called back asking if I wanted to meet her at La Paella (a fancy tapas restaurant) and then have drinks with her and Carolina at Solas, which is just two doors down.
The food was amazing. Then at Solas, we got our favorite corner table in the Red Room upstairs. Then we had a State of the Relationship summit. Laura asked if it's worth it if things are this tough so early in the relationship. I'm asking myself the same thing. I guess what I'm trying to figure out if this is a normal level of trouble. I don't want to settle, but I also don't want to wait forever for something too perfect. I think Too Perfect is the new name for my novel. Heh. If nothing else, all this silly angst is good book fodder, and blogging has cheered me up yet again.