The Peach Is Cracking
I go to bed and wonder how much closer I’m going to be to bankruptcy by the time this is over and I wake up wondering the same thing.
I go to bed wondering how much time I’ll spend in jail after I stick a rake up the building inspector’s ass and break it off and I wake up wondering the same thing.
I go to bed wondering how much fight I have left in me and I wake up wondering the same thing.
I go to bed hoping to sleep peacefully and wake up feeling as though I haven’t.
I go to bed wondering where my computer is and wake up wondering the same thing.
I go to bed wondering if our new cat, Macy, is ever going to like us and I wake up wondering the same thing.
I have bad dreams that I can’t remember, I just know they’re bad because I wake up fighting and my heart racing.
When Nate asks when we’re going home, I cry because I can’t answer.
When Nate asks when things will be right again, I cry because I can’t answer.
I cry because I don’t know if they’ll ever be “right” again. I don’t even know what “right” is anymore. I just know the way things used to be and I know the way things are now, but I still have no idea if either is right or wrong or just is.
I think I need a big ole John Fred hug.
Goin’ Freakin’ Batty
Thank you all for your comments, e-mails, e-cards, contributions, well wishes, and if I’ve seen you in person, thank you for the hugs. “Thank you” just doesn’t seem to be enough. I’m blogging from work while my bosses are out at lunch so this has to be fast.
I just got back from Knoxville and
Atlanta where I took a much needed sojourn to visit my cousins, my friends Kim and Matt, and see Black Stone Cherry. The trip was hard because although I normally look forward to all that free time to think, I just spent a lot of my drive time on the way down crying. The way back wasn’t as bad since I had some great memories and I tried to concentrate on that.
They have already gutted the house and I was able to recover more stuff, like my Beatles/Rolling Stones/John Denver/Simon & Garfunkel/KISS albums. I hate being displaced, I hate having to make all these fucking decisions, I hate living in an apartment that I have to go through five doors to get to. I’m in such a bad mood today it is unimaginable.
I try very hard everyday to wake up and be thankful that I have great friends and a great family who have supported me. (Yeah, well, more on that “great” family and the guilt trips later.) That Nate, Hermione, and I are holding up our little family as best we can and that I have a roof over my head, a car to drive, and a job to go to.
It is very, very hard some days though, like today, when I can’t get a hold of the contractor to make decisions about the house and the constant input of Steve and my parents about what is best about this and who I should call and who should look at what and where the fuck is my paycheck (my writing job) and where the motherfuckin’ hell is my W-2 and why IN THE SAM FUCKING HELL CAN’T I GET INTERNET SERVICE IN LESS THAN 14 FUCKING DAYS??????
Today, is a bad day. It is difficult to go from such extreme highs, like Sunday night, to extreme lows, like today. I miss writing and I miss being able to visit all of you. I hope you all are well and know that I think of you and will be back as soon as they hook up my damn motherfuckin’ Internet. I will check messages through e-mail.
Love ya’ll!
Hi
Hi everyone. I tried to post yesterday but the computer at my now, old job, didn’t want to let me. Bah.
Last night around 9 p.m. I’m guessing all of the adrenaline that has been driving me forward ran the fuck out. I crashed, hard. My head hit the pillow at whatever time and I didn’t know there was a world until I heard Jeff’s voice telling Nate it was time to get up. He told me he was trying to let me sleep but the moment I heard his voice I was awake.
My insurance company has been incredible. SAFECO. Their investigator, claims adjustor, and contents adjustor have been awesome. Their contractors (cleaning services, housing, building) have also been awesome. I couldn’t ask for more, other than to have my house and my cats back. They have all been very professional yet compassionate.
Jeff and his girlfriend, Vivian, have been awesome as well. We all know they didn’t have to take me in, Nate yes, me, no. They have been super supportive.
My co-workers, from my legal job and from my writing job, have been awesome, gathering clothes, money, pots and pans, linens, just overwhelming. I’ll get more to that later.
And of course, all of my friends, and friends of friends, and family of friends of friends, including all of you. The outpouring of love and support is so overwhelming it makes me cry. I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. I have so much to tell you about the things that I have found and the small victories of picking through the rubble and finding something untouched.
If you have called and I haven’t returned your call, it may be that you called at a time when I was out of cell phone range and your message was there but not your number. My voicemail is still up at the house too. If you call and I don’t answer make sure you leave a call back number. My phone has rang so much that all of the numbers in memory are being overwritten.
There has only been one bad experience, other than the obvious. I almost punched out the city building inspector. I will be filing a formal complaint against that fucking prick as soon as I can. We had heated words about his fucked up attitude and abuse of power. I let him know straight up how I felt. Didn’t help that I was in the process of carrying my precious felines out of the house for burial during this time period. The insurance adjustor said that in 25 years he has NEVER had anything like this happen.
Once I stopped crying and ranting after the fucking bastard left, I called Steve, who has called me 20 times a day, met with the contractor when I couldn’t be there, etc. etc. He called his friend, the mayor. I’m not in the best mood peeps and I’m still very emotional, but the thought of Steve walking into the mayor’s office and telling him, “Either you sit on your man, or I will,” makes me chuckle in a very sad, yet evil, way. And the fucking piece of shit deserves it. And he deserves everything I’m going to throw at him. And he also deserved for me to punch him out, or crack his jaw open with my MagLite, or have the side of his head bashed in with my shovel.
He is one damn lucky fucker that he walked out unscathed other than his ears ringing from the tongue lashing I gave him.
I’m really trying to focus on the positive instead of this asshole, but I don’t want him to do this to someone else. Someone not as strong as I am. Someone older or younger or not has knowledgeable or who has suffered a greater loss than I did. Plus, I have to get it out of me so I CAN focus on the good and the positive.
Well, I have to go meet the contents adjustor here in a few and I’m going to see if I can dig anything else out. I love you all and thank you for everything.
Nanner
Anything Goes 