It's the moment where giving any fucks about anything at all has become more a liability than anything else. The next two weeks, with the weird work schedule, the social engagements, school starting and the Convention... there is simply no room for much else. The cats get what they need-obviously-but not much else. Downtime is lost in a smokey haze of old school V.C. Andrews and the longing for routine and sameness in my days to come. Although that never lasts more than a week or two... and while September promises to be relatively quiet I can't think of a month where there isn't something... something happening even if it's as innocuous as Valentine's Day. My mind has stuttered and stumbled through this day like a record scratched and warped on a wind-up without a crank.
Another summer has passed without any work done on the house. The drywall patches still need tape and mud, the walls still need to be painted, the art still rests in a box rather than hanging on the empty, dreary walls. Although the tree in the backyard is gone and landscaping can now occur there are matters of time, money and no fucking clue what we really want to do with the space. Then there's the bathroom... and I have no clue how bad the damage truly is but I suspect the sub floor has water damage and the drywall behind the shower is probably also in truly bad shape. I'm almost afraid of what they'll find upon demolition... but we have yet to even discuss what we want to do with the room... we simply know it must be done.
I've neglected people outside my immediate "they live in my house" family and even then only feel guilt when I consider my mother - and then - only because I miss her. Sometimes I believe I have too many friends to keep them all as close as I want them... but sometimes I wish I had more friends.
Above all else I wish I had more time, and of course money, but then... how does that differ from how everyone else feels?
