I'm fucked up. I feel I have no control over anything. This flies in the face of my Existential philosophy, of course. I can always choose how I feel about what is happening, can choose my reaction to it. So I did. Last night I chose to ingest a nerve pill. I got up when Mr. Fixit was knocking on the door. Out of it. So I made the coffee and sat down with Mr. Fixit. He is grumpy. He is tired of the long drive each day, sore from manual labor he had not planned on. I know. I don't blame him. But I am worried. I need Mr. Fixit. He said he is going to need a big check tomorrow. Yea. Yea.
He has gotten to work and I am having coffee and writing this. The inequity is palpable. It is driving the cost up, I think.
Today I have to make some decisions and purchases. I am not good at that. I do not make good decisions and then I am stuck. I have to choose a shower door, a faucet set, and a toilet paper holder. I have to get plumbing and a toilet seal. I am as tired as Mr Grumpy, but the money only flows in one direction.
Would anyone like to buy a big print? Retirement is not going so well.
I can't sit at the computer while he works. I need to be a gofer. One day, maybe, I will be clever again. Now. . . I am just a mewing steer, here to take a goring and calm the bull.
"I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas."
ReplyDeleteWhat is it with Romantics who run to Modernism for solace?
You with Prufrock. T. thought all of life swirled out from the "Wasteland."
I need to do some studying about this subject. Oh shit. More studying. My head is pounding tonight from learning - you know- MNPoE. Not only all the language I'm taking in - but "Office Politics." Fucking people - man why can't they just get along. I do love it though. I can dress up and I see patients. It's just women - man - they are constantly pitting themselves against each other. Sneakily behind backs - all this trianglization. Or how ever you spell it. It is a horrible thing.
I'm not getting drawn in but already "those" are attempting to drawn me in. I refuse to be a person "caught in the middle." WTF.
I swear I have my head set on the work. Smiling and sweeting up the patients who just had their heads hammered. And are expected to pay 1 billion dollars for the torture AND schedule their next abuse session.
Really. I love it but I have a headache tonight.
I want to open the pricey bottle of Pinot Noir I bought no one drank at Thanksgiving and zone out to something on the TV but I don't have energy to find anything ( Send Along Any Ideas) and I have to report again tomorrow.
What?
I say I love relationship stories and you give me toilets and faucets? Phooey.
I know. I know. It's horrible. Life sucks. I just got home and spent 1/2 hour with Ma. She said she doesn't understand why she is still alive (again - we are 10 years in on this line).
I thought to myself "WHAT ABOUT ME. I MISS MY BOYFRIEND TO RUB MY NECK AND BACK AND FOOL WITH MY HAIR AND TELL ME I'M THE BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO HIM. THAT I'M ADORABLE AND EVERYTHiNG WILL BE OK."
WHEN IS IT ABOUT ME???
Whew. Thanks. I needed to vent.
I love you, Man.
from, "I love you, Man."