Caterwauling

HAI!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I was babysitting my fur-nephew all weekend. And I was all set to go home last night when I found out his mom couldn’t get to Florida until today. So I bought a new dress and enjoyed having one more night with my beloved boy. Life’s good!

The UEOEH had e-mailed me Friday, to say she wanted to see Lady L’s apartment. She also wanted to visit George one last time before they leave us for Maryland. (Sigh — the 10 months they’ve been here has saved me; I’m only happy because she’s moving up in the world … AGAIN.) And that I will be along for the road trip back to our old world!

Anyway, I said I was planning to walk G around 7 p.m. if she wanted to come along.

And she showed up promptly at 7, as I was starting to fall asleep after another exhausting workweek.

So I took the troops for a walk; we ate dinner outdoors at a chi-chi place on the A1A, and George sat on a big-boy chair all by himself. I fed him the bacon off our bacon-wrapped scallops, and he was so happy after a long day at the office with me.

So, the UEOEH was “more grateful than (I) will ever know” for the night out. And for the food. Probably mostly for the food.

Anyway, now that she finally knows where Lady L lives, it only makes sense for her to want to push her way in and come back, yes?

So she e-mailed me yesterday to say she wanted to make a pan of pasta, and drop it off so Lady L would have some food to come home to. Which is lovely. That’s the mother I remember. Always thinking of others.

Starving herself and blaming it on me, however, is the mother I know now. But since she suddenly had money (that I gave her for food), she wanted to make food for Lady L.

Not for ME, mind you.

So I e-mailed back, hey, look — that’s thoughtful and all. But this is my last night of living alone until you move out. (I left out the “when hell freezes over, apparently” part.) So, please let me have it.

I thought that was pretty tactful of me, considering that I felt strongly that she was pushing her way in and, let’s face it, ruining my calm.

I went to a movie. (Saw “Hereafter.” And LOVED it.) I got a migraine from the high volume of the speakers. It was old folks’ day at the theater — every retirement community in the county, it seemed, dropped off a busload of blue-hairs.

Anyway, G and I took a nice walk and went to bed early. I got to my e-mail today … only to get a very snippy reply from the UEOEH that I “can HAVE IT!!!” in regard to my freedom.

And this is why we will never get along.

I wrote back to call up her one friend in Pittsburgh — the one whose daughter just moved to D.C. a year ago — and stay for the holidays. They have an extra bedroom. She’s clearly miserable living with me.

And damn, I was actually feeling kind of bad after Friday — after seeing how sad and broken down the woman is. How much she really needs therapy and health care and good, old-fashioned TLC.

But then the claws come out. And I figure, if she has enough fight in her to challenge the asshole paying the bills, well then she can make a fucking phone call to cancel her car insurance or to drive to the DMV and get her license so she can get healthcare locally.

Oh, George. Give me one reason why I should stay in Florida and not stay with you and your mom when we drive to Baltimore next month. …

Dawdling

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

The president isn’t the only one with idiots for advisers. That is all I’m going to say about that. (Fuckin’ Snooki!)

George and I are watching “Grey’s Anatomy.” I’m fairly certain my fur-nephew is one of my soulmates. He’s pretty much the love of my life, at this point.

Apparently the idiot maintenance dude flooded my apartment while putting in the new hot water tank. I always say that place is one safety violation from falling into the Intracoastal. Apparently parts fell out of the wall that we didn’t even know existed.

I got some weird news today. (No, not that my bouquet of bribery flowers arrived safely to my cousin. Which they did. I hope she wonders how she can ever thank me. By taking the UEOEH for the holidays would be a nice start!)

My sixth-grade history teacher died a few years ago. He was awesome. Loved that man. I had had his wife for a class somewhere else along the line. Didn’t love her as much. Can’t remember what she even taught, for that matter. Apparently she was found in her basement, dead, having hanged herself in her grief. How friggin’ sad.

I can’t imagine killing myself over losing the love of my life. Hell, one of my boys just told me today that clearly I hate foreplay — I must be a “wham-bam thank you ma’am” type. I couldn’t really argue. A girl gets bored while a boy tries to Google-Map her G-spot!

This is probably the last chance I will have to babysit George. So I’m trying not to be sad. We’re curled up on the floor while Aunt Goddess drinks her hard cider and avoids work.

Change is afoot here in so-called paradise; George is moving back to Maryland soon. And it pisses me off that my beloved fur-friend is going away, yet my Ultra Extra Over Extended Houseguest is like a burr nestled up my ass for the foreseeable (and even the unforeseeable) future. NOT FAIR. Waaah.

If the rope or the ceiling beam wouldn’t break under the weight of my pudgy pork-roast ass, I’d hang my damn self too! Not because I’m lonely, but because I haven’t gotten the chance to be!

Have you ever broken a fingernail, and it’s so deep into the “meat” of the nail that you can’t cut it off? Sure, you can trim around it, but there’s always that piece that hangs precariously — ready to catch onto a loose piece of clothing and snag the delicate fabric — until you finally say “the hell with it” and cut it and try not to whimper in pain?

Yeah, it’s been like that here for a little while now.

I’m happy to say I have custody of my fur-nephew starting today and through the weekend. That’s nice.

I’m happy to say that after three Halloween parties, I wake up on All Saint’s Day and fly to Mexico. You know, where they’re beheading Americans at the border. Whee! Although I highly doubt that the exclusive four-star hotel on the peninsula has any rogue gang-bangers who are out to get the gringos.

My hot water tank exploded last night. I have to admit, the UEOEH cleaned up the mess while I was having my usual Wednesday night date with Lady L at our favorite restaurant. (These dates save our sanity. As does the grilled brie in honey butter.)

There’s no hot water right now, so staying at George’s house couldn’t have come a moment too soon. And it’s pretty damn ironic that I am going to the Porn Palace for a hot shower, with its 24-gallon hot water tank that gives you a warm shower for three minutes on a good day!

I’m kind of “feh” right now about everything. I’m also struggling as a McManager. All the experts say to spend the most time and effort on your stars. And yet, it always seems to end up the other way around — the stars are off on their own because your hands are too full with everything/everyone else.

And then former stars (like myself) are just plain unmotivated to do the mounting challenges in front of them. I have a mile-long to-do list, but when you’re told not to focus on details and then a detail (or 10) gets fucked up, it’s kind of frustrating.

A friend just got her dream job. And I am SO HAPPY for her. I’m thrilled to know that those exist. And it makes me vacillate between “I can do this for the rest of my life” and “How much longer till it’s been a year?” And what is my dream job?

I’d be perfectly happy to write my novels on the side again, without the UEOEH hovering all the time. (And Lady L can confirm, the woman HOVERS.) I feel like other than my escapes (whether to our favorite restaurant or our favorite cities) with Lady L, plus the occasional fur-nephew-sitting when she’s out of town, there’s nothing I do that stokes the creative fires.

Oh well. At least I don’t have 10 kids, a mortgage (or a foreclosure) and a deadbeat husband. There is something to be said for, if not having the stimulation I seek, then not having a level of aggravation I didn’t bargain for, beyond what’s already there.

I am now actively trying to find a way to offload the UEOEH. (E-I-E-I-O?). When I thought I could bribe my cousin into taking her for a while (or forever), my heart lifted. I could feel it. There was noticeably the absence of a rock from the pit of my stomach.

Of course, the cousin refused and I sent her the biggest bouquet of autumn flowers known to man yesterday. Just in case she realized that I am a wonderful person who needs a break already.

I am now thinking of one of the UEOEH’s friends in Pittsburgh. Her daughter works in D.C. now. I know they have a bedroom or two to spare. I wonder if I shouldn’t have sent HER the obnoxious floral display instead. …

Right now I’m struggling with whether I’m taking the natural next step in my career, or simply becoming something I’m not. I feel like I’m leaving 85% of what makes me, well, me at the door while heeding the suggestion, “You should learn from the OTHER publisher.” Who is half my age and has been with the firm for half a decade and doesn’t have my experience in other things.

But anyway, I realize now why, when I was a grantwriter, it was so important to ask for money for respite services for caregivers. (I worked for a foster care agency, where we mainly serviced aunts and grandmothers who inherited kids while their mothers were in jail or otherwise deemed unfit to rear their kids.) That night off … or weekend or week … is more precious than any Apple product ever manufactured. (Yes, I said it!)

If I could offload the UEOEH for the holidays … wow. How happy I would be. And if it could turn permanent, well, all the better!

I finally have something to pray for, other than, “God, get me out of this mess.”

Once that’s solved, I can perhaps start in on cleaning up my OWN life. What an original idea.

Lady L have already made plans for dinner tonight AND tomorrow night. The week is THAT challenging already.

Apparently I just did something to screw up a product launch. It was unintentional, of course. And of all the layers of upper-management (of which I am somehow one) approval I procured, I didn’t involve the one person who would have thrown the brakes on my approach.

Damn it to hell.

The good news is that I get to cancel my dreaded 3 p.m. meeting. There’s hope yet for this day.

I just had a random memory, of someone I dated back when I lived on my own. (Aaaah, those were the days.) I remember being as feisty and independent as I am now. And I remember this man saying to me that his greatest fantasy was to give me a bath.

I of course was skeeved the hell out and, needless to say, we ended shortly afterward.

He had said it was one of the most-vulnerable states in the world. And for someone so adamant about having a force-field around her, he would consider that a true victory in breaking down the fortress and 20-foot moat I have around me at all times.

I don’t know why that memory came to me today. Probably because I feel like Rapunzel being stuck in the castle the day after she gets her hair cropped for the summer. The moment where I want to stop fighting and say, OK, I’m vulnerable.

And whoever’s around, just don’t hurt me. Because I don’t have it in me to fight back anymore.

So tired. …