Date Decision Flow Chart: Nothing Could Go Wrong (+ Bird Hilarity)

      You missed quite a comedy show this morning here at Margo Manor, friends and neighbors.  

       Yours truly, Captain Cranium, was getting caught up on housework.  I was washing my stockings in the sink when I heard the unmistakable sound of wings flapping.  I poked my head out of the bathroom door in time to see all of my little birds–not Parrot, the little ones–making a cage break.  I’d left their door open after I cleaned their cage, and they were using this opportunity to get the hell out of Dodge.

       Several of them, flying around my apartment like crazy.  And unlike Parrot, they are only quasi-tame–they don’t step up.  I had to chase them, which was quite an experience, and I could only chase one at a time.  I was terrified that the ones I wasn’t focusing on would fall into the aquarium tank or fly into a window or eat some rat bait or God knows what.

      Or get eaten by Parrot.  Parrot was hanging out on top of her cage when this happened, and she didn’t like the little ones whizzing around the room, feathers flying everywhere.  She didn’t like it at all. 

     I was chasing birds for a few minutes before I remembered that I’d left the bathroom sink running.   Flooded the floor.  Took every dry towel in the house to mop up the water.  

       I was going to do the floors today anyway, but for Chrissake.

      I finally got the birds contained by throwing a pillowcase on top of each one and gently bundling it up.  I examined each bird carefully and I think they are all okay.  

       It’s a beautiful day outside.  I’m going to finish my chores and walk to the west side to catch the train to Jersey.  I have a student tonight and then I’m going to catch up with a friend.  I feel much better.  Last week was emotionally rough for me, for reasons that I don’t quite comprehend.  Maybe I overexerted myself.  It’s good that I made plenty of money and got the monthly bills paid up in advance, but maybe I overdid it.  I think I’m gonna take it easy this week.  

      I was also sorta torturing myself about what to do with the Mathematician.  He’s always sending me emails and text messages.  Not about setting up an appointment, either.  It’s friendly stuff like “I took my dog to the beach today!  Wish you were here!” with attached photo of sand-encrusted retriever fetching a tennis ball, or “What do you think I should get my female colleague for the office Secret Santa exchange?” 

        It is notable that these warm–dare I say, affectionate–gestures provoked within me anxiety and an impending sense of doom.  Tell me that isn’t hilarious.  I’m sitting in back at the Studio–the atmosphere of which was only nominally more sane than the psych ward at Bellvue last week–answering emails from random internet sadomasochists, and I look like I was attacked by Hannibal Lecter because the Surgeon took a bite out of my shoulder, and I freaked out over the photo of the dog with the tennis ball.   

       This nice man has no idea what he’s getting into, I thought.  What do I do? 

       Well, you know what…?  He’s a grownass man.  He’s older than I am, and he has his shit together.  He can make his own decisions.  I’m not going to get rid of him just because of my stupid self-sabotaging impulse.  He doesn’t need me to protect him from anything.  

        At this point, the only thing that I owe him is honesty.  He can decide for himself whether, and to what extent, he wants to be involved with me.  

       He invited me to watch him play squash tomorrow night, and this time I am going to go (last time he invited me, I freaked out and canceled).  Then I am going to let him take me to dinner.  I am going to eat the food, and not cut it up in tiny pieces and move it around on the plate.  I am going to enjoy his company.  If he wants to pay me, he can.  I am not going to stress out about it anymore.  If he wants to talk about it, then we can talk about it and reach a decision like two mature, thoughtful adults.  

      The Mathematician is not Hannibal Lecter.  There is nothing to be afraid of here.  He is, in fact, probably the least scary part of my life.  

      I just did a little decision flow chart in my head.  Barring a catastrophic freak event, like a car crash or the Surgeon showing up at the restaurant, nothing could go wrong.  It is impossible to fuck this up.  I am going to spend time with a really great, attractive guy who treats me like gold.  

      Wow.  I don’t know where I got this burst of clarity and insight from, but I’m sure glad to have it!  I will definitely have to share this with my analyst.  She will be thrilled.  Three cheers for positive mental health!

       What a relief, man.  I need to think like this more often!

       Here is an awesome, beautiful video about birds.  It makes me feel happy inside.  I hope you like it!  

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