8:50 p.m. - 2012-06-27
Nine minutes shy of midnight, and I just posted my frantically revised and re-revised synthetic DNA paper. Edited after two exams, between classes, with children hanging off my legs, and then again after I got home from my last, last LAST class at 10 and unceremoniously and unmaternally stuffed my children in bed without book-reading or teeth-brushing. My poor kids... yes, I do feel terrible about this. About everything.
I think I nailed everything -- two exams today and the paper, plus a final exam I took last week in my other class and just got back (I got an A on that, and in that class) ... but so what; all it means is that I'm a selfish person.
I am going to try to make it up to them, yes. I have the rest of the summer school-free.
I'm not sure how I did on the paper I just posted. I've found that the fact that I used to be a science writer for a newspaper to be something of a disadvantage in writing about science for school. The professional writer in me says that I need to avoid details and jargon and distill everything down to explain to my mom what some item of scientific news means to her, personally.
In school it's more or less the opposite; instructors want extraneous details, agonizing explanations, repetition and generally lousy writing that no one but a science instructor would ever suffer through reading. This morning my DNA piece was interesting, concise and clear; this afternoon I realized that if I wanted an A, I'd better revise it to make it boring, unclear, un-concise, and generally agonizing to read. Unnecessary details galore ... well, at least there is one thing from reporting that still serves me well: I am still damn good at hitting deadlines. (With nine minutes to spare!)
Tonight I asked Matt if there's any chance he could take the kids Saturday night, just evening and I'd get them in the morning, and he bitched and moaned about how much he has to do and asked me what the hell I needed him to take them Saturday night for, he thought I was done with school!
I said, "So I can get laid."
And I added, "I think you owe me that, don't you?"
He didn't answer, not that I expected him to -- probably hasn't crossed his mind that I might, actually, be attractive to someone else and that person might be bedding me. That has not happened in our entire life together -- together or apart that is; I was single when we met 10 years ago and I haven't even dated once, till this spring, in the two-plus years since he moved out. I still wear my wedding ring (although it's covered up by another ring -- HE knows I wear it) and I tried for a long time to get him to come back.
I hope he thought I'd stay celibate forever, and I hope it bothers the crap out of him that somebody else is gonna be in my bed Saturday night.
I didn't really try to bait him too much, though, because I didn't want him to tell me he was happy for me and mean it.
That would have bothered the crap out of ME.
For the record, wanting to make him jealous has nothing to do with wanting him back; I want REVENGE. I want him to suffer a little bit. I want him to realize that the reason he was getting laid and I wasn't was that he's a scumbag and I'm not -- not because no one would want me. It would be nice if he were to take a good look in the mirror and realize that I'm the one who had two kids and he's the one with the gut -- I'm the one still wearing the pants I wore in college, and I'm still getting honked at when I walk down the street.
He'll probably never notice this, though; his ego is too overinflated.
But then again I know Matt, I think, and if he is not burning up right now, I'm a monkey's uncle. I wouldn't go out and hop into bed with someone just to make him jealous, he knows me so he knows that, and hopefully that aspect increases his discomfort tenfold. Maybe once he realizes that he's finally lost me, he'll realize that I was something to lose.