Here’s the deal. I’m running out of stuff to get rid of. That’s excellent!
There’s still shit all over the house, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not stuff I’m at liberty to chuck with wild abandon unless I wanted to chuck the husband, kids, chickens, dog and cat. I like them and I’m keeping them.
Meanwhile I’m counting down the days until I can say I’m done (19) even though I am not contractually obligated by, uh, anyone except that asshole inside my head that says I would be a loser and a quitter if I gave up one day short of my stated goal.
I’ve been noticing that my daily purges aren’t simply a matter opening a drawer and going to town. My drawers are still kind of screwed up but if I like what’s inside them, I’m keeping them. This isn’t a sadistic exercise in getting rid of stuff I value.
Instead I’m getting rid of stupid shit like this, which is kind of lame.
But there is something that I really need to do and it would be the perfect conclusion to this year-long project I’ve been on. I need to flip my office.
I pretty much use it as a place to charge my computer and pile up stuff that is making its way out the door. Meanwhile, a beautiful room with lovely light and privacy is being used as Lonny’s eBay space when it could be more usefully repurposed into my bedroom/office. Well, our bedroom, my office.
Given my aversion to closed doors, I would love to have my personal space be completely separate from our business space.
I enjoy having Moneypenny and Minion in the house, but I don’t think either of them want to see me darting naked from the shower to the kids’ room where my clothes are hung. Nor do I want to think about it anymore.
This would also allow Moneypenny and Minion to work on the same floor as Lonny which will make it easier for them to ask questions, they won’t have to schlep stuff up and down the stairs, and we can move the shipping out of my living room (which drives me crazy) and Moneypenny won’t have to work in the dining room anymore.
It’s going to be a sucky project, I have no illusions. Lonny and I will probably get into at least one ginormous fight over it because he likes to accuse me of being a stinkin’ rush about it, and what’s the hurry, and why all of the sudden is this such a big deal even though I’ve been begging him to do this for year and have been patiently waiting for him to get on it.
Getting this done will be more useful than ten things a day, although I suspect that I will find more than ten things to get rid of in the process.
Today Testiclese is home with me. He face planted on the way to school and hit is head pretty hard on the cement. His doctor checked him out and didn’t seem concerned about a concussion, but still.
Why is it so hard to just fucking walk to school without sustaining some kind of head injury? I’m practically a fixture in the nurse’s office these days.
On another note, I had a birthday recently. Lemony is going to be pissed at me about this because I used deception to avoid any kind of celebration. Lots of deception.
It’s just that it has been the craziest few weeks, with more to come and I felt like any kind of get together would feel like yet another obligation rather than a good time.
I have classes to teach, parties to arrange, performances, etc. I need to put my head down and go and when I’m not working, I just want to stare at a wall.
So I told her that my birthday is on Christmas. It was wrong. I’m sorry I lied to you. Can we do something after things settle down?
Anyway, somehow a guy from school found out is was my birthday and wished me a happy one and wanted to know what special things I was going to do.
Me: “Nothing at all, and that’s just the way I want it. It’s really no big deal.”
Him: “I know it’s not ‘no big deal’ to your mother, who labored for hours to have you.”
Me: “Sore subject and therein lies part of my aversion to birthdays. She and I aren’t talking. At her request.”
Him: “I’m sure she’s thinking about you.”
Me: “I’m sure she is, too. Maybe she’s thinking she regrets the day I was born.”
Major downer. My heart is full of sadness over this. Later that day he caught up with me at school pick up.
Him: “How was your special day?”
Me: “Really, it’s not a special day. I don’t want it to be a special day. I just want it to be a day like every other day but maybe without any bickering.”
Him: “I bet it’s a special day to your mother.”
Me: “She doesn’t want to talk to me. She literally told me I am dead to her. Didn’t you catch that?”
Him: “She’s your mother, I know she has feelings for you.”
Me: “You’re right, but those feelings bring her nothing but pain and I don’t know how to fix it without getting caught in a destructive cycle of disfunction and betrayal so can we please stop talking about my mother?”
All I want for my birthday is to not talk about my destroyed relationship with my mother with a person who has absolutely no idea what we have gone through, for crying out loud.
Aside from that, I had exactly the day I wanted to. It was low-key which is fitting for a 42nd birthday.
I got lots of smooches from my kids who were kind to each other for the day (they wanted to know what I wanted and I said “world peace”) I had ice-cream for breakfast, I taught some really fun classes and had drinks with Heather afterwards (not because it was a special day but because that’s what we always do which is even better) and a new friend dropped off a CD of music in my mailbox just to be nice. I couldn’t ask for more.