Catch me if you can!

Is it a Rod Stewart afternoon? Yes please.

I've been cleaning for the first time in weeks (apparently I've been a bit of a savage lately, but I'm starting to make some progress on cleaning up my apartment/life). I actually spent some time today considering if it's ok to write a blog about the pros and cons of cleaning up cat vomit when it's wet vs when it's dry. (Seriously, when it's wet, it's so much easier to clean up. But I have a very sensitive gag reflex and then I almost throw up too. When it's dry, it's so hard to get off the floor, but at least it's less disgusting. No? We don't like where this is going? I knew it was a bad idea. Sorry. Feel free to contact me to get your money back plus damages for the time wasted/emotional trauma you've suffered having to read that.)

I finally decided to take the picture of Vienna off my fridge and move on. And by "move on" I mean "focus on my career". Isn't that a great term? No matter what you want to get out of in life, you can just say, I need to focus on my career and who can argue with that? No one. Cause yah, you do.

I was talking about it with my secret life friend the other day and he said: "This is a little something I've discovered about my sweetest friend Margaux. The minute you feel threatened with hurt or abandonment you start shooting like an epileptic cowboy." Um, hmmm. Ok, I can go with the whole "I have a disability" thing. I've been a bit emotionally disabled for like, 3 years now. But, in my defense, it's sort of a self-preservation mechanism. It's complicated, but once you've been shot through the heart and left bleeding on the sidewalk, you gotta start wearing bullet-proof gear. (So you don't almost die again, OBVIOUSLY.) You can't really love anyone without taking the risk of getting hurt. But after everything I've been through, getting hurt again is not really an option anymore.

It took a few years of therapy but at least I know now that's what I do and why I do it. When life went away so overnight, I had no control over any of it. Now, if I get even an inkling that you're halfway out the door, I will cut you so fast you won't know what happened. At least it was my decision, in my control. I'm not trying to hurt you, really. I'm just trying to protect myself. Which is why I will probably die alone and my cat will eat my face before anyone finds me. That's also why my best ex-boyfriend ever used to call me "Little Flight Risk" (I'm trying to think about how to make that funny, but I'm drawing a blank). I think the solution is...wait for it...to get a puppy.

Puppies. Rainbows. Ice cream. See? This was a happy blog after all!

PS:

I would have given you all of my heart. But there's someone who's torn it apart.

And she's taken just all that I had. But if you want I'll try to love again.

Baby, I'll try to love again but I know:

The first cut is the deepest (funniest Rod Stewart video ever)