Best Laid Plans

"The best laid plans
of mice and men
Often go awry"
-Robert Burns

Yes, thank you Scottish ancestor Robert Burns. You've got that quite right. And Steinbeck further embodied that statement in the book Of Mice and Men.

The plan was quite simplistic:
Curl up on sofa with Twilight and disappear into the fog that is so thick here I cannot see the backyard.

Instead, I paid out several thousand dollars in bills ( just the long overdue monthlies, plus the back taxes from Massachusetts I didn't know I had, oh and let's not forget that rent is due next week), waited for the refill of the oil tank since I ran it dry - bone dry (yes, I can't remember everything and yes, dammit it would be nice to have a guy around) and had no heat (therefore curling on sofa was not really possible anyway), and replied to all sorts of emails from friends and relatives (thank goddess for electricity).

I just wanted to slip away. Like they say in the story, "for a long winter's nap..."

But before I make another attempt to unplug for 24 hours, I have to admit I've been holding out on my blogger buddies. No, I can't claim I've secretly lost 50 lbs. Oh how I wish. In this moment I do pause to reflect that I'm writing this blog for me and you're all just along to witness at your own will, but no, I did not willing withhold information. I just ran into the realm of OVERWHELMEDVILLE.

Anyway, is that enough anti-climatic build-up? If not, you could come back and read the rest of the post tomorrow.

What, you don't like that option? OK.

I met two guys last weekend, on two "meet and greet" dates. Thank you OKCupid.com!

One of these fellows is not yet divorced and therefore in my standards (they're low but I DO have SOME), not yet datable. But he was quite nice and quite into music and should he wish to be friends, I shall grant him that wish. I am not sure he wants to be friends however, he seemed quite surprised at my size. Guys could pay more attention to photos.

However, the other one, is extremely single. And a Springsteen fan. And he was, and remains, quite into me.

*cue up the guitar*
"Oh baby, trammmmmmmmps like us..."
*ahem*

Oddly enough we work for the same company, different site locations. Bizarre. And probably somewhere in Ze Zerman protocol, ztrictly.againzt.ze.rulez. Oh I feel so naughty. So, yes, he's 30 and my dear, sometimes-logical-quite-entrenched-in-a-meaningful-relationship, counterpart Sweden, didn't even draw a full breath of air before she immediately dubbed him "Harry Potter" for his resemblance. Really, I think it is just the glasses...but I was equally appalled and amused in agreement.

Am I old enough to be a cougar yet? Does he have to be younger than 30? Inquiring minds need to know; I need a cougar mentor! What are the rules? Anyone? Anyone?

Oh god if the day comes that I cannot laugh, surely that will mean the end of me!

So, here, in case you're not already laughing at my situation, let me help you. What are you waiting for? Without further ado, some comic relief, sung to the tune of Angel, by Juice Newton:

"Just call me Cougar, in the morning (baby)
Just kiss my wrinkles before you leave me (darlin)
I'll leave you claw marks
on your back, my baby
Then you'll slowly turn away
And I won't beg you to stay...."

Well, I'm not sure which is more enlightening or perhaps, depending on your angle, devastating:

I've become a cougar.
I'm boffing Harry Potter.
I'm a cougar who is boffing Harry Potter.
I'm a Harry Potter-boffing cougar.

*purr*




Considering I never ever EVER liked Harry Potter, you can imagine my surprise.