Sunday, January 17, 2010

My goodness where does the time go?

4 days have gone by and I was just in the middle of trying to clear up a blog-post backlog.  What happened?

1) A giant horde of people who eat like locusts descended upon the hotel.  You cannot imagine how UNprepared we were the first morning this group took their breakfast.  I am SO. NOT. JOKING about the locust-thing.  In a half-week, they've eaten the quantity of stock we normally go through in one full week, with a full-hotel.  And the hotel isn't even full!  It's been quite exhausting, trying to keep the horde happy and simultaneously keep the effects of the horde, um, less noticeable/disturbing to the other people in the hotel who don't exhibit locust-like behaviour.  I speculated to a colleague the other day that perhaps each member of the group has their very own "ver-solitaire" (tapeworm.)  They are a strange group.  I'm sure you'll hear more about them, since they're sticking around for awhile and they do odd things, like get dressed with the doors of their hotel rooms wide open.

2) I have been somewhat 'antisocial' of late.  It seems I've been getting sick, or having minor-culture-difference-breakdowns, or have been scheduled to work at all the wrong times, which has resulted in my not attending social dinner-y type functions recently with Boyfriend.  Supposedly his friends wonder if maybe I don't like them after my non-appearance at a birthday party, a dinner, and last night's dinner, so I put something on my facebook to reassure them that they are not offensive when I decided not to attend yet another dinner we were invited to last night.  Why didn't I go last night?

Remember that these are *Belgian* dinners, which means you drink too much while snacking on olives and talking for like 3 hours, and the real food actually only hits the table at like 11pm.  I've established that this formula, and almost all variations on it (with drink, without, with olives, or no,) inevitably makes me sick/unable to sleep/some combination of the two.  And I had to work (and deal with the horde) this morning starting at 6:30, and did I mention I'm fighting some sort of throat-disease-thing? (hurts to swallow.)  I'd be willing to make the sacrifice were it just me and my day off today, but it wasn't.  Boyfriend is irked by my dinner-reluctance, but I think he forgets to take into account the sickness, work the next day, the scary nature of the horde, and so on in my decision.  He probably thinks I hate his friends too.  That, and he thinks I'm spying on him.  More about this later, since I'm not done with the whole dinner thing just yet...

2.5) Belgians should learn to Brunch, I think.  They'd love it, because it's social, drinking is acceptable (well, it always is here,)  they could rise late from their previous evening of debauchery, and eat a bunch of sugar, starch, salt, fat and generally enjoy (or even ammeliorate,) their hangover.  But they're not big on Brunch, it seems.

Toronto is an awesome Brunch city, by the way.  Man, I miss Brunching.

3) Ok so now with the spying thing.  PA-RA-NOIA.  So, Boyfriend has sort-of quit smoking. It's been several months actually.  He still has the odd puff now and then (usually on the weekend) but for the most-part it seems he's stopped.  This is impressive to me, though I loved him just the same when he was a smoker.  It was impressive to me because it seemed he made the decision for his own sake.  But now I'm sort of wondering if he really DID do it for me, thinking I wanted him to stop or something, or what the deal is with his motivation here.  He did mention that he 'did it for me', or because of me, something like this.  Though I never asked him to stop, he stopped... but if I were I not in the picture he'd probably still be smoking, if I understand correctly.  Anyways I say this because motivation is a big thing for quitting smokers, and so I guess is guilt?  I'm not sure what exactly happened, so I'll just tell you - Yesterday I noticed that boyfriend's tobacco-bag looked different (yes he rolls his own and smokes them unfiltered.  It's probably good he cut back, non?)  Anyways, like I said, the bag looked different, and it was a Saturday,  (higher possibility of smoking,) so I asked "You smoked?".  This was just out of curiosity, but apparently I came across as suspicious, or invested, or something, because he said "why?"

Now I don't know about you, but usually I just ask a question because I want to know the answer.  So I repeated my question "you smoked?"  Dude started getting really weird, thinking my not answering his "why" question and just repeating my question was like, an interrogation, so he then asked me what I did to his bag of tobacco so that I knew.  Apparently he'd taken extra care to ensure he placed the bag of tobacco exactly as it had been before he'd smoked that day, and he SERIOUSLY THOUGHT I HAD PUT AN UNSEEN HAIR ACROSS IT, or something.  It just looked different to me than the last visual memory I had of it.  But the last visual memory I had of it could very well have been from last week, since though I have a visual memory, I don't really make it a point of cataloging my house and the whereabouts and exact physical appearance of each item on a daily basis.  Aside from items that are regularly misplaced (like boyfriend's glasses, my keys, and so on,) I don't really pay attention to where things are at all.  The proof is that I can never find a pen or a pair of scissors to save my life.  I *should* start paying attention to those.

...  Seriously.  If this conversation yesterday wasn't so weird and stressful, it would have been funny.

I was floored by this, the idea I'd be "spying" on his bag of tobacco, particularly since (though I *am* proud of him cutting back) I don't actually care if he's smoked or not, unless he has stinky smoke breath.  Before you go thinking I'm an evil girlfriend who doesn't care about her boyfriend - the reason I don't care is this: Everyone I know who is a smoker, who quits, never actually really quits.  Sooner or later they take a drag off a friend, or have a whole smoke to themselves, or break down and fall off the wagon, as it were.  So I don't have ANY expectation about his smoking.  I tried to remind him of this, and to remind him that I'd never had a problem with him being a smoker as well, but I think at that point in the conversation it came across more like "JEEZ!  I don't really care! I was just asking out of curiosity! F*&%!"  Yeah... maybe it wasn't that abrasive or maybe it was (it was.)  I had a bad day yesterday, and being accused of espionage was kind of something that pushed my 'freakout' button.

Really, who loves someone, lives with them, talks about sharing life and family and future - but also thinks this person they love, and live with, and want to share their life and family and future with is SPYING on them?  Does that make ANY SENSE?  If it does, please explain because I really don't get it.  I was so discombobulated by the thought that I began to wonder if *I* should be worried, since experience has shown me in life that people only say weird shit like this when they DO weird shit like this.  Am *I* being spied on?  I don't know.  But to be honest I don't really care either.  I decided a long time ago to just try to live life honestly and openly.  It was mostly because I'm a lazy: though I can lie and sneak with the best of them, I don't like keeping track of lies and secrets.  It's too much effort, and I like to keep my mind free for other things, like wondering why NONE (not even one,) of the horde staying in the hotel push their chairs in after they rise from sitting at a table?  It must be cultural.

Anyway, am I wrong at thinking the idea of ESPIONAGE in a loving and trust-based relationship seems completely OUT OF PLACE?  Please feel free to weigh in on this one by commenting a, b, or c:

a) Jessica, you clearly didn't get the memo: spying is the epoxy that strengthens a loving trust-based relationship.  Seriously get with it and show the man some affection by surveilling his every doing!
b) There is no place for love in the House of Spy.  Love or Spies, not both.  Ninjas however...
c) Um, Jessica, talking about your relationship in a detailed manner like this online makes me feel uncomfortable.  But have you seen that movie with Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, where they're spies AND in love?  (In other words, c = Switzerland.  Neutral.)

Anyhow, I'm off to take some pain killers.  Dealing with the horde has aggravated my shoulder, which has been just peachy for quite awhile until yesterday.  One last bit of news for this post is that I saw more pigs!  On the bus-ride home from work!  About 20 feet away there were also some unsuspecting humans walking along too, but I was on the bus, which was whipping by, so hopefully we'll not hearof pig-attacks tomorrow in the news!

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