Monday turned out way wrong, except not really, I guess. I drove my roommate to the airport and on the way home, my steering wheel stopped working. This is much scarier than it sounds. I made it home, somehow, and walked to campus. They didn't have my book. They couldn't sort out my financial aid. I walked home. 

I called my brother and explained the car situation and he told me I was "boned." I called my grandfather and he told me to tighten my jumper cables? I open the hood and all the hobos across the street in the park are watching me and I look uncomfortably at my engine with my grandfather on the phone. "See it?" See what, grandpa? "Be careful, if you do something wrong, it'll blow up." 

One of the park people came over. "Need help?" 

I did. I explained what my grandfather wanted and the guy did it. He asked if I had a cigarette. I didn't. He said thanks anyway and went back to the park. I turned on my car. It was not fixed. I drove to auto zone.

Four hours later, the wonderful people at auto zone, a guy in the parking lot, and his mobile mechanic friend Miguel had my car fixed. The belt had fallen off. I missed my grad school meet'n'greet. It was eight o clock. I was starving. Exhausted. And just the littlest bit impressed that I got my car back to working condition on my own. Granted, everyone around was incredibly helpful and going out of their way to assist me, but I was still by myself. My mom even congratulated me.

I told Ryan I was too miserable to hang out but he came over and and brought me a burrito and gave me a back massage . We agreed from the start that it was going to be a casual, exclusive relationship that could end at any time because he's leaving in July, but if I were going to fall in love with anyone, it would definitely be him. 

I feel really good about right now. I did spend the morning baking, that's always a guaranteed happy maker. Tonight: a ballet, ladies night, and whatever else I want. Tomorrow I'm going to my mom's house for a good week and a half. Don't tell anyone, but Ryan's parents live about ten minutes away. I really hope we see each other.

I made him watch Love Actually, because it's my favorite Christmas movie. We ended up talking through the whole entire thing and I wasn't even mad. I love talking to him. 

Why am I like this? Can't I just see boys the way they see me? 

Whatever. I'm always fine. This next week at my mother's is going to be a constant juxtaposition between awe-inspiring awesome good times and misery. Here we go! Merry Christmas, if I don't see you.