So I woke up today with yet another reason to be counting down the days until my lease is up: Eiren's car was broken into. The passenger side window was busted and many things were stolen, including her favorite pair of Wal-Mart sunglasses, damnit! At least when the bandits made their rounds the time before this, including my car, I was dumb (and lucky!) enough to have left a door unlocked. They simply opened it and trashed my car while in search of valuables, including my brother's dead iPod. Yeah, good luck with that one.

I suppose I should thank Eiren for being frantic and waking me up at 8 am, for today has been a rather productive one. I showered and dressed, deciding against the whole shaving thing, and then rode my bike to Alex's apartment. He opened the door in a sleepy stupor, and I almost - almost - felt bad for arriving unannounced. "You didn't wake me, " he said, although the tightness in his eyes told me otherwise. He then told me his head hurt, that he was hungover. Imagine that.

That's all it took for me to turn on a heel and leave as unexpectedly as I'd arrived. Maybe it wouldn't have been so lame if he'd been drinking with someone else, like, say, his dead-beat brother. Or that girl Rachael from his job who, apparently, only talks about herself. Jesus, no wonder the boy drinks alone. But to the point of a hangover? We've all had a couple of beers by our lonesome but come on. Overindulgence is a turn-off, no matter how you look at it.

I'm well over being the only social outlet for Alex. Believe it or not, it's a lot of pressure. What I once saw as tender and endearing is now pathetic and annoying. There's only so much insecurity, jealousy, and possessiveness that one can take before a line has to be drawn. Sometimes this line has to be very thick with attitude and truth-telling for the oblivious and the delusional, which is why I don't feel bad for telling Alex how incredibly lame he's become and that he should consider getting a pet.

Later in the afternoon, after I'd gotten my hair cut too short by an Asian lady with an attitude and bad breath, I got a text from him, apologizing and telling me he'd "make it up to me," whatever that meant. As far as I'm concerned, he owes me nothing. He can make big boy decisions. Should he chose not to when left to his own devices... well, that's his problem.

So instead of giving his problem a chance to also become my problem, I got an iced coffee and rode back to my apartment, accidentally cutting through campus. (Oh, how I wish it were still spring break for those scensters!) I cleaned out my car, got an oil change and the aforementioned trim, bought a new pair of snazzy sunglasses, had a delicious lunch of salad and baked chips, picked up two new books that I can't wait to stick my nose into, and stopped at the bank to make a deposit.

Thank you, Alex, for being a borderline alcoholic so that I could spend the day getting errands done.