I haven't been blogging this month, but stuff has still been happening to me.
I went to a concert with my mom like a cool person.
This concert was at a standing-only venue in Asheville that serves beer in plastic cups. The show was sold out, and the uncirculated air closely matched the internal body temperature of the horde of human beings inside. Just as the show was about to start, I was nudging my way back through the sweltering crowd from the bathroom, when I somehow collided with a plastic-cup-wielding girl who splashed beer down my leg.
I had been looking forward to this concert for a while, and I wasn't about to let one damp, yeasty-smelling leg ruin it for me. But as I stood there, waiting for the band to take the stage, I realized something: All these people are milling around with, at most, six square inches of personal space per person, and roughly two thirds of them are carrying beer in unlidded containers, consuming said beer and getting progressively drunker and, consequently, less able to steadily grip said containers as the evening progresses. We are all basically standing here taking a giant beer shower.
It was a mind-blowing realization.
I got way too emotionally invested in Game of Thrones.
This actually started when, determined to find out what all these memes were talking about on Pinterest, I put season one of the show in our Netflix queue, at which point Ari announced that neither of us was allowed to watch the TV series until we'd read the books. (I have a sneaking suspicion he only said this so that he could move 2001: A Space Odyssey to the top.) So a couple of weeks ago, I finally picked up the first book in the Song of Ice and Fire series, and found myself sucked into a state of psychological turmoil the likes of which I hadn't experienced since my Harry Potter days.
Seriously. I literally found it difficult to concentrate at work because I was so concerned about the characters' safety and well-being. Who cares about wrapping this order? Arya is trying to escape from the castle and I DON'T KNOW IF SHE MADE IT. How can I be expected to sweep when NED IS LOCKED IN THE DUNGEON?! For about a week, my existence consisted of sleeping, working, and then practically dive-bombing my bed at the end of the day so that I could indulge in another marathon reading session.
I have no regrets.
My car did something weird, so I took it to a mechanic, but then it immediately stopped doing the weird thing, and now I feel like an insane person.
It's amazing how one barely-detectable lurch or vibration or mysterious noise in my car takes me from zero to cray-cray in a matter of minutes. On the bright side, the mechanic didn't charge me for my visit, which I am going to choose not to interpret as an act of pity toward the girl who was clearly having a paranoid episode. My car has been driving fine ever since, so I've decided to just stay calm and assume my engine is going to explode at any moment. My solution to this impending disaster is to treat my car with especial kindness, as though my goodwill and affection will convince it to continue functioning properly.
So as you can see, I'm in a really great place mentally.
