5/1/00
"...where would you go if you had the time? Crossing some crazy state line somewhere? To whom do you cry? People are unkind..."
I am SOOOO confused today. I actually skipped therapy this morning because I knew all I'd be capable of would be staring at her with my eyes squinted and half-crossed and saying things like, "huh? What? I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Not entirely productive. Plus I have a ton of shit work to do here, and I had to focus long enough to pay my bills, so I thought it would be more worth my time to just stay put.
I ended up missing the piano concert Saturday night. The hillbilly clan didn't show until around 3:30, and I wanted to eat, so by the time they got there and dinner was served, it was about 6:00, and I thought, okay, I'll just skip it because it's damn hard to shower and get pretty when you've got a fucking 3-year old who has to potty every 20 minutes in your house. They didn't end up leaving until 8:07; the concert started at 8:00. So we made hurricanes (Pat O'Brien's genuine hurricane mix from N'awlins) and got drunk while ripping up the carpet in the spare bedroom. The floors actually look pretty good--too good, really, as I was wanting to go with a more "rustic" look. We think we're going to try to white-wash them or something. If anyone has any clue how to do this, please, e-mail me RIGHT NOW before we do something we'll live to regret.
Yesterday was the ball game and it started out beautiful, we were up 3-0, bottom of the 6th, and it just starts pouring down rain. Everyone else took cover, but Megan and I, being the super fans we are, stayed put. I sat there eating my chili-cheese nachos and drinking my beer and getting soaked because the tickets were free and "goddammit, I ain't moving until they CALL IT!" After about half an hour of getting wet, the rain stopped and the game went on. We won 6-3 and this was the first major league game I've ever been to where my team didn't lose. Most excellent. As soon as we got home, I crashed on the couch. No sunburn, but we still got "wind burn," of all things. It was a good time.
And today I'm back to reality. After paying my bills I am painfully aware of just how little money I have. I am also painfully aware of my own limitations when it comes to organization and keeping track of my life. I have to go home at lunch to pick up the research I need to work on my paper this afternoon (they don't pay me enough to actually work, might as well do my homework) and I'm going straight to the library after work. If I get anywhere, it will be a miracle.
(Later) I have managed to finish the paper. It's only 7 pages (9 with the cover and bibliography) but he didn't impose any requirements, so I'm not going to sweat it. It's truly a sucky paper. Possibly the worst I've written. But I also thought that about the paper I won $100 for. So maybe fortune will be my guide. (Does anyone know just what, exactly, that means?)
I am so tired I can hardly stand it. And I'm tired of eating. All I've done for the last 2 days is eat. The thing is, I really haven't eaten any differently than I have for the last 27 years, it's just that I've reached that age where suddenly you actually gain weight when you live on a steady diet of Twinkies and Pepsi and Frosted Donettes. Perish the thought! So I will have to start walking the dogs more often. I'm going to have to walk Martha and George separately for the next week or so. I ordered a "no-pull" harness for Martha today--it's supposed to "gently restrict movement without pain." I hope they tested it on a Rottweiler with a hormone problem, because at this point, I don't see any hope of Martha walking calmly and happily down the street and not attempting to dislocate my shoulder or rearrange my face via asphalt. It should arrive "within 7-10 business days" from foster and smith (if you have pets, you must check out this link) and until then, I absolutely cannot bear to walk George and Martha at once. For one thing, it's really hard to try to yank Martha around and smack her when she tries to kill me if I'm also holding George. For another thing, it really freaks George out when I start screaming and beating Martha. So I will take Martha to the park and let her run, then George and I will train for our big walk... I know I just did this awful boring diatribe on walking my fucking dogs, and I'm sure anyone reading this is probably now either asleep or hanging themselves...I'M SORRY! MY LIFE IS BORING!
So I am officially not going to be a biological aunt. Dammit. If I seem less than upset about it, it's not that I don't care, it's just that there's not a hell of a lot anyone can do about it, so what's the point in dwelling? Truthfully, I am upset about it, but life goes on. What's the alternative? What pisses me off, though, is my mother's whole take on it--"well, I guess if the good Lord means it to be, then it'll be." Forgive me my blasphemy, but people who just sit around waiting for the good Lord to push the buttons in their lives make me crazy. No, Mom, I don't think "the good Lord" would intend people to go through some of the shit they do, and I think a lot of the time that attitude is religion's patriarchal way of keeping the little people out of control of their own destinies. "There's nothing you can do, may as well not even try, because the 'good Lord' is going to do things His way." Yeah, whatever. I do things my way and if they don't turn out as such, then it has less to do with "the good Lord" than just some colossal cosmic fuck-up. There, that's my 2 cents' worth. (I'm at a loss for segues today, so I'm resorting to the old witicisms that don't make any damn sense. I think I used "additionally" in my paper more than 30 times.)
Almost time to head my ass out of here. Thank God. It's been totally hard to focus today. I suppose I could have killed some brain cells this weekend with my wild and crazy round of alcohol abuse (2 huricanes and a large beer--somebody call AA!), or maybe Weird Laurie's killing them off with all of her second-hand pot smoke that comes wafting into my yard. She lost her pot Sunday morning and was out searching her yard for it. I'd think that was pretty damn funny, if there wasn't a chance that she lost it IN MY YARD and it's sitting out there waiting for my dogs to eat it or the cops to find it. It would be hard to maintain this page or walk my dogs or pretend to work if I were sitting in jail. But I guess if I do go to jail, that's what the good Lord intends... Right?
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