Still here. Still sober. I’m having trouble keeping it together. Any joy I find seems to be tainted by my suffocating financial burden. I accumulated too much debt while I was out of work. Now, even though I have a full time job, the crap pay isn’t enough to keep my head above water. I’ve had to borrow from my dad and from one on my friends. It’s humiliating.
My apartment is nice but the landlady is difficult to deal with. I jumped through a lot of hoops to get this place and on a regular basis she asks more of me. She’s a very bossy and demanding personality type. I’ve started pushing back but that just makes things even more unpleasant. All my dealings with her leave me angry, frustrated, and used. It’s all the more painful because this could be such an ideal place. But like all things lately, nothing can ever be quite right.
I feel like the butt of some cosmic joke. Each time I think I get a little relief, a little reprieve, a little peace, something fucks it up. It’s like a cup of coffee where you finally get the perfect mix of cream and sugar but before you can take a sip the server dumps in more coffee.
I haven’t prayed since I was a child but I’ve started praying again. I’m not sure to whom or what but I’m throwing it out there anyway. Mostly I pray for protection from myself because every decision I make turns out to be the wrong one. Tonight, I’ll pray again. But I won’t pray for me. I’ve been too selfish. Tonight I’ll pray for my landlady. And I’ll pray for the compassion I need to pray for her. OK, I guess I will pray for me.
Free. I moved out of the Harpy’s Nest into a studio in the country. Life is good. I can breath.
Poo. It’s become part of my mornings. About every other day one of the unkempt menagerie that shares this house leaves me a present at the start of the day. Usually it’s poo but sometimes it’s vomit or a stinky wet spot (let’s assume pee). When I drank, I was the one generating indiscreet bundles of poo, vomit, and pee. Now that I’m sober my enthusiasm for effluents has waned quite a bit. Apparently, the 4 cats and 3 dogs of this house don’t share my attitude.
Feeling blue today. Not sure why. It’s a beautiful day – sunny and warm but not oppressive. Then again, after living in Tucson, my gage for oppressive heat is pretty high. Nonetheless, it’s a fine day. I guess I’m blue because I have no one to share this day with.
I admit it. I’m lonely. I’m tired of going through this shit by myself. I can’t even hang out with my dog anymore. I tried AA for a while but that made me even more depressed. Every time I left a meeting I wanted to drink more than when I went in. This blog has been my AA. And I don’t want a drink. I want a companion.
I wouldn’t even think about hanging with my roommates. Although I finally figured out the motivation behind Herself’s uncommon civility of late. This morning she asked me if I could pay $100 advance on rent for next month. I told her I didn’t think I’d stay for another month. She took it surprisingly well and said, “OK, I guess I’ll look for a new roommate.” When I got back from doing some shopping there was a car parked in my space. Apparently, she didn’t wait for rigor mortis to set in.
Oh well, I think I’ve been too harsh on Herself and Husband. (At least I hope I have.) I don’t think they’re necessarily bad people. They’re just poor and desperate. Unfortunately, I’m learning that song myself. It’s hard to be considerate when you’re in constant survival mode. It’s easy for the affluent to point out a lack of social grace in the poor. But the affluent don’t live one minor misfortune away from the street and inescapable poverty. Try sleeping with that sword of Damocles hanging over your bed; see how neighborly you feel in the morning. Ultimately, I don’t wish Herself and Husband any ill. But I can’t continue to live there. I hope it works out for all of us. I hope they find a roommate who fits in. I hope I find pleasant accommodations.
Here’s to hope.
Today I went for a drive. Along the way I stumbled upon a scenic overlook and snapped this picture:
It’s Mt. St. Helens. I have a special fondness for her because she’s damaged but still awesome. I aspire to be like her.
Life at the family manse has been much nicer. Maybe Herself (I’m toning it down from Harpy since she’s been somewhat civil to me) and Husband have figured out that creepy roommate is exactly that. Which makes me the good roommate. Or not. Either way, I’ll ride the wave while I can.
Also, why is my font all messed up? In fact, why is this entire editing screen messed up? Apparently Mr. WordPress made some “improvements” while I wasn’t looking. Does this font make my butt look big?
Today as I entered the Harpy’s Nest© (i.e. my “shared” house) I was mauled by the harpy’s malamute puppy. It’s untrained and undisciplined. As I fought my way to the door and groped for my keys, they fell to the ground. When I bent to pick them up the puppy scratched my face. I wrestled with the little demon to recover my keys and unlock the door. I finally got in only to find the harpy and the creepy new roommate sitting right there laughing at me.
“Did you say hello to the puppy?” the harpy screeched.
“The puppy said hello to me.” And I mentally added: You fucking bitch. Thanks for getting off your fat ass and helping me with the door. In fact, why was it locked when you’re both sitting right there.
“That’s why I say pet friendly in the ad. My pets are like my children.”
I was too dismayed by the fact that this woman had reproduced to blurt out a response. Instead, I washed the claw marks on my face and wrote this. Right now a tent in the woods sounds pretty good.
A drink sounds good too but I’m not going to go there. This whole living situation is just another test. Yeah, that’s it. This is just a test, this is just a test, this is just a test….