I went to go pick Dave up from the train station LATE Saturday night. I decided to go in my Renaissance outfit (it might as well get out of the house sometime before Halloween), which definitely made for interesting reactions while I walked past the bar, past the train station lady, etc. The bodice, which I had laced fairly tight but not too tight (I speedwalk, and figured this might not be the best idea to have it so tight), seemed comfortable at first, but by the time I made it to the station I felt wonky. I love the look of these things, but tying them up tight... oy.

At any rate, the outfit was appreciated ;)

Apparently, everyone else left on Saturday night too, something to do with the car being towed. I kind of suspect they didn't have all that much fun, between the hot, uncomfortable outfits and well, being cranky because of said outfits. The designer of Demma's new noble outfit threw out what they'd agreed on and did her own thing, which was WAY too uncomfortable to move in or say, use a restroom. Teri got forced to be her handmaiden for the day and it wasn't a fun experience. Meanwhile, Dave nearly got auctioned off for a kilt check, but since the kilt-checker was er, highly likely to do more than just flip up his skirt, they got him out of it. He wasn't too fond of kilt-wearing and says he would go again, but not in costume. So much for the idea of joining a guild...

I woke up on Sunday morning with a cold. Ugh, not AGAIN! Whatever happened to me being healthy as a horse all the time, I'd like to know? I haven't had three colds (much less the flu and pneumonia!) in a year since what, third grade? Even then it wasn't so much colds as ear infections. I really hope this doesn't developing into Yet Another Major Illness Requiring Many Days Off again, though so far it just looks like the plain old traditional little one I get every year, where it's only my nose affected. And it does seem to be improving a bit (i.e. less snot). But still, I'm tired of breathing through my mouth all the time.

Dave keeps wanting to do things while he's in town, which usually amounts to (a) the movies, which he always wants to do and I practically never do because there isn't a movie out there right now that doesn't look shitty, or (b) bookstores. This time we did the latter and I ended up getting three. I am such a bad girl. On Monday (our seventh-month anniversary) we spent most of the day alternating between sleeping and playing on the computer before going out to dinner.

He's in the midst of yet another bout of insomnia (3 days running without much sleep at all, yikes), which kind of kept me awake a bit as well. He's griping about my bed being too small and is wanting to rearrange my bedroom yet again. Well, right now I can't afford to shell out for another bed from a department store ("they deliver!"). I actually saw a bed advertised by a student which would be less than half of the department store bed, but I don't have a way to get it here, or have any room for the thing. Ugh. And most of the time right now, I don't even NEED a big bed. But on the other hand, if he doesn't sleep much on this one while he's here, I feel bad. Ugh.

I think the Time of (Awful, Heinous) Reckoning About You-Know-What is coming with my parents. Mom e-mailed complaining that she hadn't heard from me, and Dad e-mailed me today complaining that nobody heard from me (in 3 days, people. Three days. That doesn't mean I'm DEAD) AND that "Mom thinks you're hiding something from us." No shit, Sherlocks. Took you that long to figure this out?

Of course, I admitted nothing, and responded to that with "What does she think I'm hiding?" How much of a clue do they have? I highly doubt either of them would come out and SAY the e-word to me if that's their guess (if they've admitted anything to themselves about it, which I doubt too). I know they don't want to hear that out of me, so do they really want to force it?

Aw shit.

I don't know what to do. As usual.

I think the screaming "I'm engaged, bitch!" over the phone option is looking more and more likely...

I told Dave about the snippy-ass e-mails on the way to drop him off, and he said the tension level in this whole thing was getting so severely bad ("It's only going to get a thousand times worse," I muttered to myself) that I really should tell her instead of blurting it out in a fight and then having her bitch that I've been hiding it. Specifically, that I should tell her tonight.

No. I'm not agreeing to that. He won't be thrilled to hear that, but I'm not telling her now. I REALLY don't want to tell her all by myself in any way, shape or form. If he's around, if anyone else is around, if we're in public, then she can't yell at me. Anything else is fair game for hell. It's not like being honest with her is going to make it any better anyway, but at least if she has to put on the public face it'll be less heinous.

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