I’m tired.

I don’t know what else to say besides that. It’s been a long weekend. I’m not relaxed.

I think half the reason I’m so pissed off is because my brother went to college today. He’s in Vermont, my sister’s in Florida.

And I’m still here.

I’m starting to feel stuck. Like, really stuck. Trapped in Keene, which has just been inundated with 18 year old freshmen, the rest of the young and the restless due in today and tomorrow. I remember, four years ago, I was getting ready to move to Boston. The place I had convinced myself was where I needed to be. And now, I’m back in Southern New Hampshire, where I swore I’d never be.

I saw four people I went to high school with this weekend. Blech. It’s weird. You see them, they see you, you both pretend you didn’t see the other. I told Nick I need a change. A new location, a new job. Anything to get me out of this funk.

I think I’m pissed off because of what happened yesterday. Nick and I were supposed to go to Boston, but it poured all day and we never made it down, instead driving into Vermont, then down into Mass. Wasting gas, listening to music, talking about stuff that we can’t change. We got home and everything just seemed to fall apart. The day started good and took a giant, flailing bellyflop nosedive towards sucky at about 6 o’clock. We were supposed to go to this party that these people Neil and Mikey know where throwing. Supposed to be this huge bash with a band and mass amounts of alcohol. Sounded cool enough, I wanted to go.

Yes, don’t all gasp at once. I wanted to go. Screw you.

Neil had to work until 1130pm and by 8 o’clock, Nick, Mikey and I were at each other’s throat.

All over a silly cigarette.

Call it a power trip. Call it teasing. Call it fooling around. Call it screwing with the stoned boy.

It was all in good fun.

It wouldn’t be Saturday night unless someone stormed out in a fit of rage. Like clockwork. Could’ve been me, could’ve been Mikey, is usually Neil. Last night, it was Nick.

All over a silly cigarette.

Mikey drove him home and came back and told me to hurry up and get ready. I hadn’t counted on not waiting for Neil and told him that. He proposed we go grocery shopping. I proposed I take a nap-ola on the couch. Mikey got mad and went in his room. I watched “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”, waiting for Neil and Nick to get home. Mikey fell asleep. I cracked open a beer at eleven because I was losing my buzz and drank it in five minutes. I laid down on the couch because I was dizzy. Nick and Neil came home and Nick jumped down my throat because I looked up at him blearily. Accused me of being tired and not wanting to go.

I did want to go. I know no one believes me.

I started putting my shoes on. Nick made some comment about the movie. I snapped at him. I hate when he does that, walks in and instantly expects the TV to go off, because he obviously has something important to say. He snapped back. I told him to get over it. He told me I was power tripping. I told them Mikey was asleep. Neil got pissed off. Nick got more pissed off.

Supposedly, this party is pretty up there in the Keene/Swanzey social calendar. You have to be invited, blah blah blah.

So, Mikey is asleep. Mikey is the one who was invited. We’re obviously not going to show up without Mikey. HE is the invitation. It’s rude and weird to just show up, without Mikey. We were his guests.

Nick didn’t understand why we couldn’t just show up. He yelled at me. I yelled back. Neil got more pissed off.

I suggested they wake Mikey up. No one would. Neil was too busy huffing about the apartment and they both stormed downstairs and had a cigarette. I went into Mikey’s room and woke him up, explained the situation. He fell asleep as I was talking to him. Neil and Nick came back in and told me they were going to do a drive by and if there were something going on, they’d stop. I was now more than tipsy and wished them well. Mikey snored.

They returned a half an hour later. There didn’t appear to be a party. The house had been dark. No cars. Nothing. Nick left. Neil was pissed off and had a few beers. By the time I finished my shower, he was high as a kite. We sat and watched OZ on HBO and ate Altoid Tangerine sours. Great show.

All that over a party that never really happened. All that for a party we wouldn’t have been able to go to even if we were all happy shiny people, singing and hugging our way to Swanzey.

That, folks, is the joy of our friendships. We never all agree on anything. Movies, food, music, TV, clothes, boys, furniture, drugs, abortion, religion, politics, friends, enemies, cats. That’s the beauty of it. We thrive on our differences. It’s why we’re such good friends. We learn to love everything about each other, even though all of us like our own way. Even though each of us is our own best friends. Through power trips and catty laughter, Sunday night QAF is what we live for. Not because of the TV show, but because we get together on Sundays. Because we do it together. Because we all need each other. We’re a family. Because we’re all best friends.

And one silly little cigarette isn’t going to change that.

Because you are all the reason I’m glad I came back.

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