Seriously. Every time I decide I'm okay it turns out that maybe I was a little hasty in coming to that conclusion.
It's nothing major; just stupid little things, really. I can't bear to read the goings-on between UND and the NCAA about the Fighting Sioux nickname. Why? Because he went to school there. Anything about Africa? A little pin in my heart. Or a big pin. Not like a stake or anything, but you get the idea.
I had a postcard from Augsburg in the mail yesterday touting their master's program in leadership. Nice. He got his master's in leadership just about a year ago. I'm surprised the postcard didn't give me a paper cut and cause me actual physical pain. There were women in the locker room at the gym on Saturday morning talking about playing tennis. But they weren't just talking about playing tennis; they were talking about taking lessons from someone. Too bad he's gone, because I could have recommended him. I'm surprised that there's not a Dave Matthews Band song playing in the background when all these things happen. That would be adding insult to injury, though.
Maybe it's just hormones again. I think in the 22 weeks since he left (I did have to actually count that ... I'm no longer mentally keeping track), I've only managed to have one month where PMS and related hormones managed to let this issue slide. Or, it could be that next Wednesday is the day we met one year ago.
I don't care what the reason is, quite frankly. I just want this to stop. I don't want to care anymore. I don't want to spend time writing about it.
Stupid time. Why do you take so long to heal all wounds?