Life's lessons

Life seems extra hard around my birthday. Always.

This year I made my best friend mad. At the last second, I could not make myself go do errands and eat out.  She asked something like, you want to go. I said to be honest, no. Knowing I hurt her feelings makes me feel guilty. Then I trash myself. My heart hurts. I want to isolate myself totally. I cannot hurt anyone or get hurt. I want to cry, but I have no tears to shed. Grey tints the day so no sunshine can penetrate.

I am past the birthday gloom and into the cough your lungs out through your chest phase. Now the unwashed dishes, stained with cheese and pasta parmesan sauce line the countertops and fill the sink. Bits of dried pasta turn brown and cements itself to the sink. At the very bottom in the metal drain stopper, slices and shreds of cat food send salvos of sensory stink bombs of their own.

The floor offers a variety of obstacles to make walking barefoot uncomfortable at the least. Because Momo does not hold his head over the bowl when he chews, bits of hard food escape. Pretty soon the small chunks are far from their origin. Pogo takes a bite from his bowl, puts it on the floor and then chows down. If you ever need some glue, borrow some of Pogo's moist food. You can always spray the repair with perfume later.

A grey-brown film of dust covers every surface. Water spots and runs mar the view from the big windows.

Chunks of plaster above the bathtub continue to fall near, and probably in, the drain. One of my boys covers his business so enthusiastically all the litter ends up in a big pile at one corner of the box with the pile oozing onto the floor. The old man exhibits his own peculiarities.

···

I am not much of a gambler, but I took the bait this time. This gamble comes in two parts. The first part went well. I wagered on someone I had never met to do what they promised. After some minor glitches, the deal went well. I rejoiced.

The other person turned out the opposite. I upheld my end of the bargain. They did not.

I never know if a gamble will work,  but sometimes you must try. I am not sorry I tried.

Hey Dude, I miss you.

Impressions

The dark waves build on the fringes of my mind.

I made plans to go to the store and eat out. When I woke up this morning the waves lapped at the positive me. The doubts rise and rise to the point of suffocation. One more heavy wave and I will wash away.

Is it always about me? Am I selfish and self-centered? Am I wrong to say I cannot go? Does every kind act toward me need repayment? What if I want to help people and do the right thing but I am paralyzed with what? Dread? Fear? Laziness? Selfishness?

The world is a mess, and I am a mess in it

I am such an insecure person, I would rather pay someone twice than get into an argument about whether I already paid. Some people like to argue, but not me.

I know I am not so important that I am the focus of your world. Since I feel the same about myself, that must mean no one thinks I am important. If I don't care for myself, how can anyone else?

Do I need help or am I just fine? How did I manage to live for years without these thoughts and now they scream accusations when I am least prepared to defend myself.

I do not want to live this way. Help me.

How's this for rationalizing?

The days fill themselves with premium chocolate ice cream bars, nuts, and crackers. Bits of food, thanks to Pogo, make walking barefoot an unpleasant adventure. Dust, like a brown shroud, drapes across the furniture. The boys' box does get attention, though the used grocery bags stack up near the box. I am sure the odor permeates the apartment, but I cannot smell much of anything. A benefit, I could say, from the years of smoking.

Television holds no power over me these days. Sitting in my chair and watching the clouds, big and puffy like those I remember from childhood, change patterns as they move across the sky. Occasionally a jet adds an exclamation.

The boys, along with a dozen or so flies, go in and out of the sliding glass door. The flies spreading the word among themselves that this place offers a flies' smorgasbord, the boys to make sure I am still sitting here.

No serious amount of energy  expended by me could get home back in shape in one day. Chipping away the chores does not work. The house seems to get dirtier faster than I can clean. Wonder why? If I completed two chores a day, and then did not mess with the recently cleaned object/room/floor, a clean house would appear in a few months. Not the way cleaning works.

Today's forecast calls for overcast skies, rain, and sleep. Oh well, the dirty house does not plan a trip to Cleanville, anytime soon.

IMYD

Quandary

I need to make a trip to wallyworld. I am craving a specific flavor of ice cream bar and wallyworld carries them. Also I need ciabatta rolls.

A major stumbling block stands in the way. The inner 4-year-old throws a hissy fit. I will not go to the store. If I can hide for the weekend, I will go to the store and take my computer to catmandu.

I formerly bargained with myself with eventual satisfactory results. The chores, or whatever, were accomplished. Now I make bargains with myself, knowing it won't happen. I am sliding the wrong way, it seems.

How can I expect anyone to understand me and what I do when even I don't know?

cloudy

Why do I procrastinate? I know the chore, talk, etc., must be done. So I punish myself by feeling guilty that I do not have the energy or desire to get it done. I think it is a power thing with my parents, still. I am proving to myself that I am in control now. The control scares me. What if my decision fails? I've shown I am incapable.

The black cloud takes its sweet time moving across the sky of my psyche.

Life's lessons learned

The worker bees painted the brick and wood on the outside of my apartment yesterday. I understand deadlines and the need for efficiency, but why can't the guys put things back where they found them? At least the men picked up the trash.

I woke up with a cough, which could mean bronchitis. But maybe not.

Jayla usually comes to vacuum on Tuesdays. I called her at the last minute to change the time for her to come. Then the plans that prompted the change fell through. I decided to go to bed and left a note and her money in a sealed envelope and taped it to the door.

Lying there, my conscience began to holler about how unfair to Jayla to let her drive all the way over here. So I called her and told her I would double her pay next week, and that I felt terrible.

I opened the door to retrieve the envelope with the money and note. Someone had taken it.

Thus my day tanked. Not so much because I lost the money, but because I trust people.

We shall see how today goes.

Strange as it may seem, I opened the door this morning and the unopened envelope was on the ground just outside the screen door. I looked there yesterday and it was not there. Today it was. Hmmmm.

IMYD

The necessaries

Today I hope to accomplish lots of household type chores, though most of them involve leaving the apartment. No. 1 on the list -- my computer. Poor old lady acquired the imminent virus, so I am taking her to catmandu for a cure, I hope. If the cost of fixing her exceeds her worth, I may consider trading her in for a newer model.

The cupboards look like that nursery rhyme, so that warrants a trip to the grocery. The price of meat makes me consider vegetarianism. I also need to drop by the bank.

The list does not go on forever but my body will feel it by the end of the day.

An all purpose store

If I am not doing much living, I might as well die. Before you panic and call the authorities, I do not think dying provides the proper solution. I mean I am doing a poor job of using the living time I am alloted, and I wish to work on this living thing.

I should put as much effort into activities as I do sleep. Or at least keep the apartment clean. I admit I own OCD tendencies. Everything has a place and everything is in its place. I also tend to procrastinate, so messiness builds its dam with cracks. The pressure continues until an OCD episode washes me away.

I spend a considerable amount of time looking for a purpose. The task seems unreachable. I cannot go to the local purpose store, compare choices and decide I will take that one.
Purpose usually does not knock on your door asking for your attention.

Purpose requires effort, hard work, devotion. Most adults find their purpose last before their hair turns grey.

IMYD