Don’t Follow

February 27, 2008 at 9:02 am (Attitude in Overdrive)

The opposite of love isn’t hate – it’s indifference. And if you hate me, that means you still care. – Marcia Cross on Desperate Housewives (which I never watch, just got the quote from Reader’s Digest.)

Hey, I ain’t never coming
Home
Hey, I’ll just wander my
Own road
Hey, I can’t meet you here tomorrow
Say goodbye don’t follow
Misery so hollow

Hey you, you’re livin’
Life full throttle
Hey you, pass me down that
Bottle, yeah
Hey you, you can’t shake
Me round now
I get so lost and don’t
Know how
And it hurts to care, I’m
Going down

Alice in Chains – Don’t Follow

Well, Jeff certainly has changed his tune. I’ve been through this. Suddenly, he’s super dad and just as nice to me as you could ever hope. And, of course, he’s asked me to do him a favor. I was waiting for it. I’ve learn to read the pattern. He hates it when I don’t cry. Or maybe he loves it. Hell if I know.  

I don’t stand and take his shit. I fight back and I don’t cry, I pack my kid up and I leave or I hang up on him and I don’t answer if he calls back. This has proven to be very effective.  It gets my point across that I’m not fucking around anymore. I don’t NEED him. Spending time with Nate after school is a PRIVILEGE. I don’t HAVE to let him see Nate other than every other weekend and certain holidays.

If you abuse a privilege it gets taken away from you. . . or it just doesn’t want to see you anymore.

When he acts like an adult, I treat him like one. When he acts like an asshole, I treat him like one. The thing I have to work on is treating him like an asshole sooner than having any compassion for him. I’m all pooped out on compassion.

He should consider himself lucky that I still hate him on occasion.  It means I still care. 

At least from the quote above I realize what I feel for AZ, or rather, don’t feel. I wish I felt SOMETHING. Getting to the point of indifference really leaves a hole in your heart.

In other news, I got a surprise visitor this morning, bright and early at 6:30ish. Now, I’m not a morning person. I had set my alarm for 5:30 so I could try to find Macy, who escaped last night, and also check for school closings and delays. (Schools were delayed, now they’re closed.) My feet got cold and I had trouble going back to sleep. I heard a knock on my door and thought it might be my neighbors telling me that Macy was in their carport or something.

No, it was something, a someone, much better and taller and stronger and warmer. My contractor. Remember my contractor? I’m not a morning person, but if he showed up at my door every morning, I think I’d like mornings much, much better. If this morning was any indication, oh yeah, I’d like mornings a whole lot better.

I think I’ll be seeing more of him, especially since the GFI plug in the bathroom is on the fritz again and he still has to fix the outlets in the kitchen and the shower head needs fixed, and I could use a good fix myself.

Why does being bad feel so damn good???