That’s what he said.

Goddamn this has been a busy week. I’ve sat at home long enough to sleep and cancel my car insurance, basically.

I went out with Rackrent on Tuesday. We visitied our old high school, then had quite the pleasant chat over lunch. Or, you know, I probed and probed and poked and prodded for information and verification that she’s doing at least moderately well while she sighed and nodded and smiled and undoubtedly wished to rip my head off. Yes, I am quite the nosy bitch. She’s heading off to China today, so that’s the last I’ll see of her until after I finish working in Terre Haute this summer.

Wednesday I canceled my car insurance. I’m sure I did other things, but damn if my days aren’t blurring together…

Thursday I had my grill worked on. College has been good for my general mental and physical health, but hell on my teeth. I’ve got four fucking cavities. I went through nineteen years of my life with no cavities, and now I’ve got four small ones in my molars. Add on to that the fact that I’ve still got four wisdom teeth that need removing, and there’s a $300 chunk of change I’ll be forking up when I return to Charlotte after research. I just hope the cavities don’t get too much larger in the next three months, and that I can heal moderately well in the two weeks before school starts back from all the dental work.

Friday was a “Michael Day” for me. He drove down from Chapel Hill and we went to visit our high school (again). I finally caught up with my elusive (she only works half-time now) eleventh grade English teacher, who’s from Indiana and is familiar with (in a general sense) Terre Haute and surrounding areas. After talking with her, I realized that she reminds me a lot of Dr. McKnuckleberry from Rose, which was a trippy realization. But we talked for a couple of hours, which means I need to visit again to get caught up with my old U.S. History teacher, who seems on the brink of doing some folk some major damage. I really hope she quits teaching before she kills someone. (Then again, if someone slashed the soft-top roof of my Miata, then busted my truck’s windshield, I’d surely have busted some balls before now…)

After our Harding visit, we picked up dirty-grungy Chris in hopes of him teaching me to drive a stick. Alas, this didn’t happen, but I did get to see Michael’s father and step-mother-ish, which is always a pleasure.

As we were driving across town in Michael’s huge van, I saw this green Saturn in front of us that had recognizable plates. The only person I know that drives a green Saturn is M.K., one of the folks I had planned on not seeing this break. Sounds harsh, but I just can’t muster the energy to sit and listen to his bragging about his latest conquests or all the fun he’s been having partying. Of course, he certainly could have grown up in the past couple of years, and I should be kind enough to give him a second chance to be cool (boy does that sound arrogant), but I’m skeptical. Obviously. So I just dropped him an e-mail rather than hunt down his phone number.

Later that evening, dirty-grungy Chris and I went down to The Evening Muse, a hot spot for independent musicians. We got to hear Alysson Light and a few songs by Pico Vs. Island Trees before Chris was set to topple out of his chair. In his defense, he works third shift and hadn’t slept that day, but he really was dozing away in the front row of a rather loud show, so we headed out. The music was wonderful, though, and our buddy Nathan, who is well aquainted (or at least pretends to be) with most of the musicians there, was in a good cheerful mood that made the evening go much more smoothly.

And now I must finish dressing for “Dulin Day”. A tour of the mall, the latest Harry Potter movie, and then dinner at his house so I can catch up with his mother. The life of a socialite never stops.