Hey der, hoomans. I have missed you! I’m in avoidance mode, wherein I ignore all people, whether or not I dislike them. This is my default when I shut down, check out, give up, give in, and don’t courtesy flush. Don’t take it personally, I still love you.
I was trapped in Harpy hell longer than I wanted because I had to look after my perfectly self-sufficient, albeit terrified, Manchild. She had me stay two extra days so she could work on the other house. I promised my assholes that I’d get their new network sorted out and wipe my Mom’s old computer so they can get rid of it. I just arrived yesterday evening, and with less than 24 hours from then until I have to be back south to Manchild-sit again, it likely won’t get finished. At least the TV and DVR are on the network (after the remote decided to deprogram itself). Those things are important in this house. This constant shuffling around is wiping ME out. Harpy gets upset when I leave since she’s incapable of seeing anything past the end of her nose. She won’t “let” MC go anywhere, and it’s not out of concern. She’s being possessive and he’s allowing it. She claims he’ll get worn out if he stays at my parents’ house with me for a few days, yet she’s the one dragging him to all sorts of family functions. We don’t have those here. They sit on their rear ends and drool in front of the TV most of the time. Ah, retirement.
I’m beyond perturbed. Surprise, surprise.
Guess what? If something happens to MC, the only thing I can do is call 911. Would it be nice if, after his death, he won’t sit there festering in his purged bodily fluids for two days? Sure, but no one extended that courtesy to me when I was critically ill. I seem to remember almost begging him to come home from ROK a few months early, but “that requires too much paperwork.” I’m so glad I’m worth the five minutes it takes to fill out a hardship request.
If something happens to MC (dissection or rupture), he’s fucked anyhow. Thus, it doesn’t matter where the fuck I am. My dog had the decency to attempt to die while I was out of town, but my parents called me to let me know she was on her way out, so I sped home and was with her as she struggled to take her last breath. Fuck all that. If he dies, he can do it while I’m on the toilet, or an hour away. I’m not watching that shit. I may have liked the dog better than him, at least that’s the way it feels since she never spent hundreds of dollars on pointless shit that’s cutting into funds for lodging, travel, FOOD, and my dental shit. It’s okay. I don’t want to go to the dentist anyhow. Now I’ve got an excuse.
I’ve mentioned all of the things I hate about the Harpy nest, possibly to include that it’s fucking freezing in there and the room I sleep in smells like garbage and it gets down into the upper 50’s at night since there’s no insulation. Do you know how difficult it is to get out of bed when all of your joints are frozen? Oh, and then walk down two sets of stairs to park myself next to the smelly bunghole for the day. Stairs that aren’t level and are treacherous to navigate even when you can feel your feet. Wouldn’t you know it, I’ve already fallen down them. My knee went crrrrunch as it hyperextended and twisted in an unnatural way. Skills. Many hurts.
I should be much more zen while staying in a house that’s all one level, is a comfortable 72 degrees and Harpyless. Should be, but I’m not. I don’t want nunna this keeee-rap.
I set my alarm for 8am hoping to start work on the prehistoric PC and hit snooze for 40 minutes. The alarm tone is Bittersweet Symphony. It’s possible I need something more obnoxious and grating to get me out of bed. Was I ready to get up at 8:40am? Fuck no. Am I looking forward to my trip back to hell? Fuck no, ’cause it’s a bittersweet symphony, this life.