Late Shift Blues

I work the 'late shift' on Wednesdays. This means that I come in at 9:30 instead of 8 and stay until 6 instead of 4:30. I don't mind the late shift. In fact, I kind of like it. Traffic isn't as bad (both ways), the morning goes by fast, and usually it gets very quiet after 4, which means I can be productive. The problem with the late shift is parking. As in, there never is any (especially when the weather sucks). Students and faculty snap up every available inch of space by 8:15. The lots are full, the streets are full, even the handicapped spots are full... today I spent 25 minutes driving around in circles to find a spot, each circle bringing me a block further from where I need to be.

When we were together, The Ex moved into a 1-bedroom apartment 3 blocks away from the office I work in now. Correction: I moved Ex into that apartment. This morning, I found myself on that street, in the rain, in front of that building, desperately hoping for a parking spot. What I saw instead was that the porch was empty of sports equipment, trash bags, lawn chairs, and there was a giant American flag fluttering from the front window. Ex clearly doesn't live there anymore.

This didn't make me sad or make me cry... but it did give me a very weird feeling. One day he's just no longer there. He no longer lives in an apartment that holds memories of us... in fact, he probably now lives with his new girlfriend [whom I fondly refer to as The Bride of Frankenstein] somewhere else. A year ago, I thought it would be me he'd move in with after the apartment on Ridgefield. It's like he's started a brand new life and been wiped off my radar... but I know he's still floating around the area. Who knows how long he's been gone from that place. Now, strangers live in an apartment that was practically my second home.

The way people's lives and paths cross and continue forward is so interesting... and in some ways, sad. It's been almost a year, and I think I can say that I know I'm going to be alright. I can't remember the last time I cried myself to sleep over him, or over a song that reminded me of him. I still get sad and miss the relationship, but I'm okay with it being over. I just wish sometimes that there could be a way to avoid amputating people from your life so unceremoniously. Or if so, they could be amputated from your heart as easily. Sitting in my car, in front of a stranger's apartment was a warped reminder of how nice it would be if things were that easy.