*smooch* (ldy) wrote,
*smooch*
ldy

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My inner child has a mind of her own sometimes

Sometimes my inner five-year-old likes to stamp her feet and whine that life isn't fair. She threw a bit of a tantrum last night. Luckily, she didn't have an audience.
Dear inner five-year-old:

Guess what! You're right. Life isn't fair.

Now, get over it already! We have lots to do, and complaining about the obvious doesn't help.

blah blah blah whiney money blah blah blah.

I tend to have a generous nature, and as such, I've had relationships in which that generosity has been taken advantage of. A current situation is pushing all the same buttons, but while it might appear superficially to be a similar situation, I know in my heart that it is not. It is difficult for my sense of logic and even my heart and gut feelings to overcome this knee-jerk reaction. I'm not sure why.

My inner five-year-old says to heck with logic and cries "where's the rich and handsome heir to the throne Disney promised?! And, for that matter, why can't I date ME?"
Dear inner five-year-old:

Disney's princes are shams. Really. You wouldn't want one of those. They're all prettier than you, and utterly two-dimensional. None of them actually know how to deal with money, since they've never had to do without. You got a custom-made prince, handsome and deep and funny and perfectly suited to you. You ARE dating you, except with a penis! And he reads your mind, which is bloody well handy, since you never seem very able to express yourself verbally when in tantrum mode. Heavens, child-- how much more could you ask for?

Not all princes have castles. Sometimes that's part of the shared adventure. It's more fun this way, trust me. AND you get a two for one deal with this one! Two-two-two wacky funsters for the price of one! Sell your damned castle and buy another already.

Frankly, my dear, it doesn't really matter who does the rescuing at any given time, as long as you both know how to ride, don't mind sharing the saddle, don't make a habit of it, and remember to always take turns. It's not really rescuing that way-- instead, it's called cooperation (though some may call it Shirley).

You know he'll be there for you when you fall off your high horse, and that's what matters. He would do all you are doing-- and more-- for you, and likely will someday.

And fact is, you probably wouldn't let someone rescue you without a struggle anyway. There's a lesson about this coming up, pay attention. You cannot be give generously if you cannot accept generosity. He's learned the lesson already, perhaps is even learning it now. He is a Great man. Hang on.

There is a Happily Ever After in here somewhere, after all.

And so goes the story of Aucassin and Nicolette.

In other news, London is definite. Dublin is definite. Edinburgh is definite. Holy shit. We're going to the UK.

I'm trying to find us the best fares. But it's not faaiiiiiiiiiiiiiir that I have to do the legwork on this!! *STAMPSTAMPSTAMP!* Hush, you.

Yikes. I don't have time for this right now. I still have workwork to do! But I think I've got it all figured out, and for cheaps. Self-- for later reference:
BWI-->Heathrow==$399RT BA 20:50/9:20 - 14:00/17:40
GNV-->BWI==$270RT DE 11:33/15:58 - 17:40/22:24
ALB-->BWI==$140RT SW 14:20/15:30 - 14:20/15:25
Assumes departure from BWI on 21, as BA flight in is a later flight.

Face it, five-year-old. You're happy to have some semblance of control, you goofy little control freak you. And admit it-- there's something utterly delicious and satisfying about finding a good deal :)

Speaking of good deals-- even though my money is fleeing at an alarming rate, I couldn't resist buying one thing from the Calphalon sale at Amazon.
Holy smokes, what a great sale! $30 for a Calphalon 12" Everyday Pan with lid! You save $138.01! And free shipping! Thanks for the tip, bandicoot! It's probably a good thing I don't have more to spend here! Yowza!



OK. Sick, hungry, cold (it's around -5 right now, with a windchill of -30F/-35C) and I've still got writing to do. Best get to it before the child throws a fit and the car refuses to start altogether.

Hang tight, little one. We're doing our job-- you know, the thing people rely on us for and pay us for-- and then we prepare for London.

Your fairy tale, my dear, is being written as we speak.

Welcome to your Happily Ever After.
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