Let's see. I last wrote on Wednesday. I did *not* complete my goals, my intentions, as they were. And I really had hopes that I could. I felt they were realistic goals. Although, truth be told, I didn't think I'd finish up the "clean up back office" bit.
I did think that I'd take a walk. And I thought it would be super good for me to do so. Also - the weather has been unpredictable, but it's finally cooled down in our part of the desert, so I had high hopes for this one. But when we got out to the wee trailer, the do-it-himself dude was still there. We talked for a long time. I need to price fencing. Another thing on the to-do list!
I woke up approx. 2 hours after I fell asleep on Wednesday night. Panicked. All the things came rushing to me. I have spent a month not working, what with the vacation/trip and then last week all lackadaisical. (great word, right?) So bam! bam! bam! You need to do this, you forgot to do this, Oh My Gawd that deadline is coming up! AAAAAHHHHH! So yeah, not a good night.
Thursday began and I was rushing, rushing to do stuff. Made a list of 11 or 12 items, crossed off 7. Not the best, but certainly better than most of my track record.
Thursday night was a terrible one. Dad got diarrhea and made a mess of himself and walked it through the house. This is, fortunately, unusual for dad. But it can happen to anybody. So I spent an hour and a half cleaning, scrubbing, cloroxing. I was feeling resentful. And sickened by it, of course. But he kept saying, "Well, I guess I should get up and start cleaning." Yeah, he never did. I swear he is lazy. But if I were sick, I bet that I'd like someone else to clean up my poo, too. So I suppose I can't really blame him. But I have the feeling that I wouldn't let them do it. I would be too ashamed and embarrassed. Hopefully, we won't find out. Knock wood. And he wasn't even saying "thank you." In my head I was saying, "you're welcome." I was feeling very bitter. As I was leaving and out the door, he finally did say thank you. I was glad.
But it was too late. I was already upset. Like really, really upset. I cried all the way home. Big, terrible sobs. And loud. I hate it.
Why, all of a sudden, do I have this terrible, ugly cry? Why can't I be dignified and silent and have the single, meaningful, soulful tear? No. I have crazy, keening, wailing, heaving sobs. It sounds crazy and ugly. *I* sound crazy. And morose. Those sounds are coming out of me and it makes me feel - defective somehow. It isn't constant. It takes a lot of energy and besides I recoil at the sound and force myself to stop. But then I lose control and it starts to slip out again. I only let myself do it when I'm alone. It would be too humiliating if someone should hear.
So yeah. It was a terrible night.
I think that I was so upset because Mom was sick often. She had every kind of ailment. Listing her medications for each doctor visit was a chore. Even with a list made out, we had to change it often. She often had gastric upsets and accidents, number 1 and number 2. I never cleaned up for her. Strictly speaking, that is untrue. I did clean - not a lot - but as we lived together this last tax season, I did clean.
You know what though? That totally doesn't count. That was cleaning for me. That was me being grossed out and cleaning for me. For my well being.
I never cleaned for her. I'm sure I had many opportunities or would have, but she cleaned up after herself. Or she tried to. I loved her so much and I was never helpful or caring when she needed it. And now I'm stuck doing it for my father, my emotionally distant, silent father.
I can't seem to get a grip on what is happening to me. I'm slipping. My hold is deteriorating. I called and made an appointment to see the doctor on Monday. I don't know that it will help. I'm fairly certain it won't help. I don't know what drugs besides prozac come in generic form. And it kind of needs to be generic since this is all coming out of my pocket.
In related news, I started my period. This could be a huge contributor to the melt down I'm having. Of course, I started on Saturday and I did not have that knowledge on Thursday night as I did my insane wailing.
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On Friday we had our first ever Old Fashioned Board Game Party. On Saturday, I had the second only hangover of my life. I don't get hangovers. Ever. I've had one. ONE in all my years of drinking. On my birthday this year, I tested the limits of over-indulgence. I drank and drank and drank. A lot. One helluva lot. Woke up energized. Last night, cheap wine did it. One helluva lot of cheap wine, but cheap wine. I was soo sick last night. I crawled into the shower with my clothes on. At some point I woke up enough to vomit my guts up. A couple of times. I only crawled out of the shower when I was so cold that I was wracked with chills, shuddering in my coldness.
End of the night (and subsequent gross day) aside, the first ever Old Fashioned Board Game Party was a huge success. If I do say so myself. :) G and Mc were here. M and A, of course. And R and wife. Heee. I'm gonna call them a combined Raimi. That was seven of us and we played Talkin' Tango. Super fun! (Meanwhile, I'm getting hammered on cheap box wine.)
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Friday I also met with the property manager for my parents' rental. It doesn't look too bad, but as it was my home for so long, it was difficult to see it different and then discuss changing things to make it look better and get it rented. It needs to be rented. A shit-ton of money it's going to cost - needs new roof, new exterior paint, cosmetic touches and landscaping to make it look decent. He suggested a paint scheme that I find appalling. It won't look bad and probably will be more appealing to many people, but the colors are too dark for my taste -- and too bland. (Brown, tan and more brown. UGH!)
I discussed with him the problem of the other property. The property that has a distant family living in it that has not paid rent. Ever. And it has been years. We've asked him to pay rent and he agrees and then never does. We never kick him out because he is sick. Mom said he has aids. I don't know if this is true but I have no reason to believe that it isn't. He doesn't work. I've asked him to contact me. He doesn't. I'm letting the prop manager handle it now. It is very distressing to me. That house needs repairs but mom never put any money into it because we weren't getting money out. I asked the prop mgr to keep the rent low. $350 is what we agreed on. I really hope it's the right thing. Something had to be done.
Wait! What's that? Oh, guilt. Welcome home. I haven't felt you in minutes.
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What do you think? Time to replace a light fixture? Yeah. That's what I was thinking too. Time for a little updating. Not too much, just enough for my credit cards to zing.
After the prop mgr, Mc and I went light hunting. There are So Many! And I like such a wide array! I don't know how I want to represent, ya know? I seem to like modern retro. Because that's the style in my tv room, I suspect. And I can see stuff going with that. But that's one small room. The rest of the house is Not like that. And who cares anyway? Shit doesn't have to match, right? I just feel like I need to love it. Looooove it. It's going to be around for awhile, ya know? I believe that one above came with the house original. That's 1962, baby. Hopefully the new one will last that long.
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Well that's about it for updating. Sunday's are busy and I know I'm gonna be running around like an idiot. That's my usual. Sister said she'd make the desert. Guess that means she's coming. That's ok. It really is, disbelievers.
I really hope I start to feel better (I am recovering still from the hangover too) - but mentally, is what I mean. I'm feeling terrible and small and horrible and hurting. I keep telling myself that it isn't real and that it will pass. I hope so. I don't want to slip away again into nothingness. That isn't living. And I want to live.
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