13
Today’s Rants:
Little balls on old sheets are so annoying. What are those called anyway? Note to self: tell Beatrice she needs to buy new sheets. Is that rude to say? She’s kind enough to lend me her place, and I criticize her sheets. What the hell, she’s known me for years. She knows what I’m like.
Soon-to-be ex husbands who cockblock you. Jacob is acting like a jealous little bitch!
Sagging titties. I mean I don’t have much going on there, so they’re not sagging too much, but they’re just not as perky as they used to be. I’m sure Alex is used to perky, bouncy tits, pointing straight ahead. It’s decided… I’m never sleeping with him. It’d just be too embarrassing. Well, perhaps I could keep my bra on… I digress.
Still wanting your ex. It’s annoying as hell. Why couldn’t Jacob have grown a beer gut and lost all his hair this past year. It would make things easier.
Frozen dinners: they suck. Why can’t these huge food companies make them better. Us non-cooks have taste buds too. I have a sudden craving for Jacob’s lasagna.
The screen doors swings loudly as Jacob swoops in. I startle around. “We’re going for a boat ride,” he announces. It’s not a suggestion, more of a command.
“I’m in the middle of writing in my journal,” I point out.
He grabs my journal and throws it on the sofa. Abby and Baxter both startle, wondering what the hell is going on. “You can write later,” he says.
I’m intrigued, I have to admit.
“I blew up the boat, and we’re going for a ride.”
I sigh. “I guess…”
I follow him reluctantly to the water. The boat is tied to the dock. There’s a checkered blanket and two oars on the dock. He hands me a life jacket. “Put this on.”
“Nah… I’m good. We’re not going too far, I’m sure.”
“You’re putting it on,” he scoffs.
“I’m a good swimmer,” I point out. “You know that.”
“What if the boat punctures and we’re stranded in the middle of the lake? Don’t be stupid, Corrie.”
The man has a point. I take the lifejacket and put it on. He already has his on. He helps me into the boat and I take a seat on the edge. I shamelessly ogle him as he unties the boat, hops in, and starts to row — his long lean muscles are everything they used to be.
“So what’s this all about?” I ask, curious.
“I just wanted you all to myself.”
“Are you trying to take me away from Alex?”
He grins. “Something like that.”
I scrutinize him without a word. He’s so possessive — always has been.
“I thought it might be nice,” he adds. “All you do is read, paint and write in your journal.”
“Well, that’s what I came here for… a little quiet and reflection.”
“And a roll in the hay with a young Brad Pitt look-alike.”
“Are you jealous, Jacob?”
He shrugs, staring off across the lake.
He doesn’t need to answer my question — I already know the answer.
