11:01 p.m. | 2003-06-28 I�m Proactive, Yet Inactive. Have I packed anything in the last two days? Um, no. Well, not really. I packed an unpackable box today. Whee. What�s an unpackable box? That�s one that contains all my phone-related stuff except the actual phone, notepads, pencil/pen holder and answering machine. Which I won�t pack up until the last minute. A packable box is one that you can actually close. Because you�re all done packing it. However, tomorrow, I�m gonna work miracles. I have 4 days before the movers show up � bright and early in the morning � and I�ll be working 3 of those days. Do I have a brain at all? I think not. What follows is yet another novel discussing all the things I�ve found to do instead of packing. Now that I�m moving, I�ve been getting to know my neighbors. I�ve always been friendly with the people next door on either side of me, but I�ve never hung out with them. On the right side are Mr. Engineer and his wife Ms. Shrink1. On the left side are Mr. Teacher and Ms. Shrink2. That may be one reason that I�ve never been cozy with the neighbors. I�ve always felt like I�m living in a glass house having mental health professionals living on both sides. They�re all nice people though, and actually, they�re friends with each other. However, they all married and the folks on the left side have a baby. I�m single and don�t have kids. Those folks are all friends with other couples who live in the �hood. And, then it just kind of expands from there. (That�d be the young and hip crowd.) I�ve mostly interacted with Mr. Engineer and Mr. Teacher since they�re outside more often. Well, and they help me with stuff here and there. However, their wives are really friendly also. Anyway, I came home Friday and Ms. Shrink2 (MS2) was outside with her baby B. When I pulled up, MS2 was laying on her front lawn alternately holding B up in the air and bringing her back down. Both of them were smiling and laughing. They looked so peaceful, I got out of my car and headed straight towards them. As we sat on the grass playing and talking, other neighbors starting joining us. Then, a guy (G) who lives across the street came over. This is that. (G:) Hi, I�m Guy. (CI:) (Shaking his hand.) Hi, I�m Cruel-Irony. (G:) Which one of these women do you know? (MS2:) (Noticing my blank stare.) She knows both of us. She lives right there. (Pointing.) (G:) Oh. Did you just move in? (CI:) Uh no. (G:) How long have you lived there? (CI:) Three years. But, I�m moving away next week. (MS2:) She�s a great neighbor. She�s sooo quiet. (G:) Wow. I thought Sue still lived there. (MS2:) No, Sue lived in our house. (CI:) Yeah, Roger and Sue. (G:) No, the other Sue. (Random Neighbor:) She lived in my house. (CI:) Actually, I think a �Sue� did live in my house many years back. (G:) There was a time when this neighborhood was full of �Sues�. Of course, I know this because, obviously, I have my finger on the pulse of this neighborhood. I mean, shoot, you�ve (looking at me) been here for 3 years and I�ve never seen you before. Yeah, my finger�s on the pulse and all. MS2 invited me to join all of them for take-out dinner, but I declined because I have to pack. Plus, I just can�t eat when I�m all stressed out. I went home, took care of some regular business and proceeded to write a novel right here at Diaryland. In other words, I didn�t pack a damn thing. I figured I�d tackle THAT stuff today. However, after waking up and showering, I headed straight to the Diner for brunch, which is a silly little exercise when I can�t eat. I read the paper, ate a little, pushed my food around a bit and spent several hours there shooting the breeze with the Diner folks. THEN, I came home to pack. As I was getting out of my car, Scotty showed up. I�m not sure what part of �I hate it when people just drop by� he doesn�t understand; that appears to be rhetoric to him. However, it IS always nice to see him, so frankly, he gets away with it. Since I see him about as much as I see Bestest Girlfriend, I�ve been trying to figure out why he�s suddenly stopping by out of the blue. Today, I learned why. See, he�s been dating someone. For some unknown reason, he always comes to me to discuss relationships and women. And, for advice. I find that all rather funny, actually, since I�m single and all, but whatever. He trusts my instincts and knows that I�ll always give him an honest opinion. See, he�s actually quite wealthy, so he encounters a lot of golddiggers on the dating front. I don�t. If I know anything, I know that no one is gonna date me for my �money�. I wouldn�t even date me for my money. As he knows that I don�t give a fuck about his money, he trusts me to screen his girlfriends. And, I must say, he has a �poor� record. Three out of four women he dates are golddiggers. I, on the other hand, avoid that kind of thing. Easily. But, it is kind of a perplexing problem. When you�re wealthy due to running your own business, you kind of �have to� project a certain image in order to attract particular clients. But, that image must be maintained and come with the right accessories. Fortunately, I don�t have to worry about such matters. Anyway, Scotty (S) was telling me about their most recent date and it was kind of funny. Here�s that. (S:) We had a date last night and we were both really tired so we agreed that she�d pick up some movies and I�d cook dinner. We�d just hang out and have a relaxing evening. However, I was running late and she thought she was supposed to come over � hour before we�d planned, so I got home 15 minutes before she showed up. (CI:) YOU running late? No way. (Laughing � he�s always late.) What�d you do? (S:) Well, we had a glass of wine while we were figuring out what to do. First, I told her I had to shower and we decided to do take-out. Then, while we were eating, we had another glass of wine. After we ate, I noticed that her eyes were really glassy. That seemed odd. (CI:) That IS odd. Was she on drugs or something? (S:) No. Actually, she got shit-faced off of two glasses of wine. She suddenly asked me where the bathroom was, staggered to it and threw up. (CI:) You�re kidding, right? Two glasses of wine and she was shit-faced? Did she guzzle them? I mean, I�m kinda little so I can�t drink a whole lot, and I don�t really drink wine, but I think I�ve probably had a couple of glasses of wine at some time and I didn�t get sick. (S:) Well, she is little (5�3� and 98lbs. � that�d be little! Even I weigh more than that), but she just can�t drink. (CI:) Wow. She must have been embarrassed. However, you can�t really fault her for that, but you�d think she�d know by now (she�s in her 30�s) that she can�t drink 2 glasses of wine without getting sick. That�s not a bad thing at all, you�d just think she�d know that. (S:) Yeah. It doesn�t change how I feel about her. (CI:) Is she a golddigger? (S:) I don�t think so. (CI:) Well, good luck then. I hope it works out. Just as soon as he left, one of my girlfriends called. I don�t talk to her often, so I appreciated the call. I laid on my empty livingroom floor and talked for a couple of hours. If my phone still had a cord, I would have busied myself wrapping it around my fingers while I talked. Girl talk is always cool. Then I watered out back, read some diaries and came here to write. Because I just don�t want to pack stuff up. But, you know, tomorrow will be different. I�ll pack then. your thoughts? seed flower