When I got back, I took a day to start working on some of the calls I am wickedly backlogged on.

Ahem, sorry Anne-wife. Call me. I swear to god I will answer and be semi-entertaining.

My guilt hovers somewhere over my left shoulder on this matter.

So, I called NM, who thankfully held off on calling me for the whole week I was away. And first thing she started talking about (well, no, that is a lie, but its energy permeated the call until it came spilling out) is how she saw Deb-of-the-exfriends. Took a ferry out to meet her actually. And how NM had FINALLY asked her about why she was such a bitch/bad-friend to me.

And I actually. actually. realized I don't care.

I was a little curious.

But only idly.

I realized there would be no surprises.

My eyelids lolled. (can eyelids loll? or is that only eyes? well, regardless, it was my eyelids in this instance.)

One of these days NM will stop talking about that time of my life. And one of these days I will sink into the ability to talk about it like any other period of my life: like it was there, but not like it is still here. Because that's how it is... so long ago. A bad dream that spoke in metaphorics about life. Lessons I have learned, bitternesses I have nearly dodged.

I do feel hopeful.

Goodbye, Deb-of-the-exfriends. Sucks for you. But it's probably a good thing that you'll never realize that.

And NM, I think I get it. I know you feel guilty.

But I don't care. I really don't. Puh-lease, like I have always said: have your friendships, but don't tell me about them. It's o-kaaaaay. Especially if we go to Hawaii on a sweet sunshine swimming trip now that there's a direct flight out of Bville.

This feels good, sorta like the new helmet with a checkerboard pattern on it that I got, and the new iPod holder I got, so I can listen to the new music I got as I huff and puff around the lake, imagining a self as bad-ass as can be.

Hep hep hep.