1,000 t-shirts later, I’m exhausted. My body didn’t have time to become re-acclimated to the rigors of shop work and I’m feelin’ it and I’ll feel it again tomorrow when we do the left chest on the same 1,000 shirts.
But, I’m also upset. I’m upset because I went to my house and I can’t get in. I can’t get in because they installed new doors and I don’t have a key yet. I know the guys thought I wouldn’t be back for a few days because of my work schedule. I wouldn’t be back when they were there is what I should have said.
I can’t handle being locked out of my own house. Sometimes I just go there and putter around, sometimes I go there and cry, sometimes I visit with the energies of my beloved pets, and not having access to the interior of my home whenever I want, pisses me off.
I know none of them would have done this on purpose. They probably would have never dreamed that after 11 ½ hours of working at the shop that I would get a wild hair to visit my home and my pets.
They’re still there because I can feel them there. Sometimes it is very strong and sometimes not so strong, but they’re there and although I know they’re dead, I can’t stand not being able to get to them. Like the night of the fire.
They were the only reason I opened the door. Sometimes, I can still see them there, where they were when I left, and where I found them. It is still really hard sometimes. I miss them and when I’m gone for a while, I feel their energies much stronger when I return, as though I’m returning from a trip and everyone is coming to see me. Who’s to say they don’t miss us too?
And I have to face all of the questions in my mind about how and why and did any of them suffer, knowing I’ll never have any answers but asking anyway. I’m trying to bite this off into little chunks so I don’t get blindsided when I move back.
And not having access to my house has triggered this insane upset inside of me, this helplessness, this need to be there, to make sure … that no one or nothing is safe from harm other than a bunch of well used tools and my memories.
But they’re my memories, damnit! And that is MY SPACE! As open as I am here, my space is my space and I’m very much a nester, I’m half a water sign for fuck’s sake, hearth and home folks. That Sag in me only pertains to my wanderlust, the rest of me is a homebody with a serious case of hermit fever.
Sometimes, I just want to be in my space.