Making the Best of What's Around

*BURSTS INTO ROOM OUT OF BREATH*

Fucking A! Moving is a bitch, no matter how much help you have. I'm usually a very easy-going, low stress, no complaints kind of girl, but packing everything I own up in 2 days, scrubbing a whole house clean Cinderella-style, and moving into new apartment that is nowhere near done being remodeled (never sign a lease and fork over $1000 a month in advance if theres no floor, no stove, no kitchen counters, no running water -no sinks/toilet/shower/washer/dryer/etc.- and only a pinky-promise that the only things left to work on by your move-in date will be light fixtures. Unless you like feeling like a naive dumb bitch who wishes she hadn't gotten a case of the giggles in such a seemingly important situation, that is) has turned me into a stressed-out bitch monster lately. Even Melissa commented that she'd never seen me like this before, and offered to buy me a coffee, or a cookie, or anything that might make me feel better. But Melissa doesn't know any Ketamine dealers, so it was a no-go.

So we (Melissa and I) moved in and had everything we owned piled into a mountain in the living room because that was the only area in the house not still under construction. We were told it would be all finished up in a few days, and the landlord took a week off of our rent for this month. So I was kind of OK with that. Only because I've been so broke that the extra week of rent was a somewhat pleasant exchange for having to walk to the QFC at the end of the block to use the toilet or wash my face. And it's kinda nice to hit up a happy hour in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday because it's not like you can really unpack yet anyway... haha.

Plus, it's all just a silly experience in young independent female life, right? Like when someone comes in to the QFC bathroom to use the toilet, and Melissa and I are chatting away with noxzema all over our faces, and as soon as we hear that someone start to pee we cant help but get all quiet, and when that someone wont stop peeing, and the stream is just going on FOREVER, and then we think it's stopping, but NOPE! this lady's been holding it for awhile, she keeps stopping and going a little more...

stopping...

going...

stop.

trickle...

stop.

streeeeaaaaaammmmm.....

stop.

trickle...

and the look on Melissa's face is so damn funny I'm trying my hardest to not be the immature freak who laughs out loud at the sound of URINE in a PUBLIC RESTROOM. But Melissa's facial expressions are so dramatic, and this lady can definitely hear my irregular gasps of air from my attempted muffled laughter and I can practically hear her thinking "Oh, fuck this white-creamed face pajama clad redheaded transient looking whore! I HAD TO PEE!!"

But I did the best I could. I mean, put yourself in my shoes. What would you do in this situation if your best friend was looking at the stall and then back at you with this look on their face?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

So when the woman came out of the stall giving me this look,

I did my best to seem apologetic while trying to wipe my smile and tears off of my cream covered face.

Ah, see? Memories in the making. I can now be glass-half-full about this whole remodeling fiasco.

I love living with Melissa. Maybe too much. Sometimes my mom or other friends and especially new friends seem to be a little confused by our bond. The best way I've found to describe our friendship is "just like a relationship, but the best relationship ever-minus the sex." We get the lesbian jokes all the time, but we've learned to chalk almost every one of those quips up to either jealousy or fantasy, or just a lame un-original sense of humor on the joker's part. So who's laughing now, funny man? Your ass kicking butch bitch friends, THAT'S who! And you'd better wipe that silly assed grin off your face before Melissa busts out her gat and does it FOR you!

Yeah, you wouldn't think Melissa's packin', but she is. Always. Actually, I had to drop Melissa off at the airport yesterday because she's taking a week-long vacation in Hawaii with her friend Eunice (see? If she was my girlfriend I probably wouldn't let her go on a romantic vacation with some other woman. Plus, I mean, Eunice is 85, so if she WERE to cheat I doubt it would be with an older woman like that. Not that I've ever thought about this... ahem... anywho....). I had been stressing out over this vacation more than I thought I would over the last couple days, just because it's lonely at home without your house-mate, and because Melissa takes on such a motherly role in our duo, I suddenly felt... I dunno... Not abandoned... or scared, necessarily... but like... a rolling stone? Yeah. On my own, like a rolling stone. Thanks, Bob.

It's just that Melissa makes life so easy for me in all those motherly ways. She helps me make all my decisions, like what I'm wearing, and what I should have for lunch. Plus she always plans all this fun stuff for us to do so I'm never bored, and... Ya know. Offers to get me coffee and a cookie when I'm freaking out a little.

She keeps me from smoking and drinking too much, wakes me up early for morning walks, tells me when I look pretty and when she's proud of me. She makes a fool of anyone who treats me badly, 9 times out of 10 she agrees to be the designated driver, and she gets me a nice card and hot cocoa when I'm sad. She tells me that I'm great and that no guy deserves me, tells me I'm talented and amazing at everything I try, and when I turn all crazy/anxious/depressed Kristina, she explains to me exactly how and why everything is gonna be OK, in a way that makes me believe her.

She's the BEST best friend EVER!

I'm sure you can see how I've gotten so attatched to all these comforts she provides. Because while other people have to deal with their lives going through a living hell sometimes, my Melissa makes sure my life is a living HEAVEN at all times. It's a little sick and cliche, but it's also very true.

So as I was driving away from the airport yesterday, I was getting all choked up about her being gone. It's not even the time apart, it's that she's so far away! For some reason I feel like the further the distance between us the more likely something terrible will happen to one of us. This isn't a rational belief, just another crazy bullshit feeling. It's not like I'm really afraid of being bored or lonely, I've already jam-packed the week with plans to prevent that from happening. But as I was driving, I kept thinking "What'll I do if ____ happens, and Melissa isn't there to help me?" But then the worst I could come up with was if I cut myself cooking or sewing and I couldn't quite get the band-aid on right.

Melissa always gets the band-aid on right.

She washes the cut, puts neosporin on, puts the band-aid on straight, and tells me not to touch it or get it dirty. Then she checks on it later on in the day to see how it's healing, or if I need a new neosporin filled band-aid. Before Melissa, I would always just stick my bloody finger in my mouth and let it heal on its own, no band-aid or nothin'. I'd never used neosporin in my life. But now that I've been spoiled for so long, I can't just neosporin myself!!

But then I said "Dammit Kristina, pull yourself together! You made it the first 15 years of your life without Melissa, and you can make it one week without her now!"

So I'm feeling good about it. I'm glad she gets to go have fun in the sun with Eunie, and I'm just gonna embrace being my own best friend for the week. It's actually kind of nice to be forced to appreciate all that someone does for you. Now that she's gone, I'm not so stressed and worried about all the ridiculous shit that could possibly go wrong. I just miss her, that's all. Yeah, I said I dropped her off yesterday, what of it? I miss her!! Fuck you..... :)

"It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got"