The Stomachache of Happiness
I have about 8 minutes before I start in on the Superman commission again, so onward with the mindless blurge.

blurge: n., a nonsensical Ginnyesque word affectionately meaning garbage, junk, or directionless pratter.

Ron was the guest manager today. I was so freaking happy. I knew he would be in the store today, but I tried to keep myself from riding on the hope that he would be the morning manager.
But sure enough, as I am driving up to the store, his golden Ford is sitting out from.
Cue the Stomachache of Happiness.

Maybe later I'll go into all the funny situations that happened today because he was here, but for some reason, I'd rather focus on the S.o.H. I concede that I have intense social anxiety. Mom admits she was worried about me when I was younger. I see myself in my little brother Edward, who must be going through the same upset I am (without the same tramatic childhood I had, thank God, and I mean that).

I felt disillusioned when I saw Ron gabbing with the other managers. I guess when someone goes away, they are supposed to stay away. That feeling battled with my happiness of seeing him. And I knew I just didn't want to have to say goodbye again. I made it through the shift just fine--felt like old times again. I also drove home just fine. I'm not upset, just...I feel dull.

When I was thinking about this on the drive home, my mind turned to other people that I care deeply for. And then my thoughts turned to love. Last night, I was telling Flora how my cousin was being married next month.
"I'm never getting married," I added.
"Why not?" Flora asked.
"I just...I can't."
Flora tried to change the subject, but I pushed the matter. "Every time there is a wedding, all the family comes hunting me down, asking me when I'm getting married. This leaves me with two feelings: one, they are insensitively nosey, and two, I am less valuable for being single."
(Now I understand why all those people complain to Dear Abby about that.)
"Ginny," Flora pointed out, "the right one is out there."
"You know," I told her, "I wish life had a player's guide to it. One of those things that tells you who you are supposed to get for your team when you do certain actions. Or just what to expect in general."
"Life doesn't have one of those! If I do happen to find one, I'll send it your way after buying me a copy."
"Please do!"

I was talking to Shaun at the same time, but...I dunno, he seemed quiet. I had that funny little Stomachache of Happiness again. Like something was wrong. I was with the people I cared about, but for some reason...

blurge

Time's up. I need to go now.
Shameless speak of Ron and the Artist's Guide to the Human Body (aka "Nudie Book!!!") to be added in a while. ^_^