liz in la: should I be committed?

Altasia Cumberland is currently attempting to wash a feather pillow. This may have been a bad idea, I'll know in about two hours. But for now, she's bumping and thumping around in the kitchen giving it her best effort. She's a valiant little washer/dryer.

Cooper is playing the latest installment of Grey's Anatomy, courtesy of Harvey the TiVo. Bartleby is curled up on the couch next to me and Elliot the iPhone is delivering text messages left and right tonight. Apparently, everyone wants to communicate with me, but just not, you know, talk to me. I would like to take a moment to remind all of my people who read this blog that phones still have this crazy voice functionality. One can actually use the phone to call and speak to a real live person. Crazy.

In other news, the girls are descending tomorrow night for some alcohol, snacks and girl times. We plan to mummify Velma in duct tape, which should prove entertaining. This is being done to construct a Velma-sized dress form, and not just for the sake of pure entertainment. Whilst mummifying her, Em will read a recent blog post aloud, one concerning her bosoms and an unfortunate encounter with duct tape.

"What do girls do on girl night?" asked Andrew.

"We talk about boys. And sex. Mostly sex. But we're heterosexuals, so yeah, boys." I answered. And then added helpfully, "Hello. We're 13. And then we'll try on my clothes."

In other news, love is in the air. I'm hopeful, for myself and my friends. I'm trying not to be a realist. The major celebration of the day was for my friend who had a successful first court appearance in her divorce. I make jokes about how I'm finally narrowing down my choice of first husband.

It's all rather frightening. My life now is simple. I sleep when I want, do what I want, clean infrequently (ok, rarely), spend money exactly on what I want and answer to no one. I spent my 20's in a committed (for my part) relationship, shacked up. In a lot of ways it was easier. Someone was there to pick me up when I fell, share the burden. But I compromised so much of myself. I think I'm all smart now, that it can't happen that way again. I was pretty sure I knew exactly what I was doing last time, too.

Really being with someone means sharing their burdens, being considerate of their needs, consulting them on plans and expenditures. It all seems like a lot of work and a lot of potential conflict.

What if I make a bad choice? Really, what I am saying here is that I have an unnatural ability to make repeated bad choices. Serious gaffes. In the past I've convinced myself of such things as: the sex will get better! He doesn't smoke THAT much pot. I can totally learn to love his mother! When his sister threatened to shoot me, she was just joking! HA.

I know all these bad choices were mine, but I like to blame God. I think he can take it.