I do love the deja vu. I take it as a reminder to use this heightened sense of awareness for good.
I did get all caught up on work thanks to K-money and a night in a Marriott club lounge with nothing but my laptop, a coffee machine and all the chocolate pretzels i could eat.
And now I’m fucking behind again.
Like this cannot be life. It cannot be suffer under piles of undone tasks, get them done, enjoy three days at Disney, then come back to another fucking pile.
K-money is very nicely pushing me to go to Pittsburgh to deal with my storage unit. That we’ve paid for 20 years.
She said her guides are telling her I won’t lose weight or fix my life till I fix that first.
Her guides are usually pretty spot-on. So, I need to listen.
And honestly that’s why my head is swimming. When she said it, my mental constellations aligned. Been complaining about it for 20 years. So go fix it.
She offered to go with me. But I asked my Mom’s friend if she knows what’s in there. And she said oh honey, that thing is PACKED. You can’t just do that in a day or two.
Mom had often told me just tell the company that she died. Or quit paying. Let it go.
K-money said don’t do that. She only games the system by complaining to the manager. You aren’t going to get any good karma out of making it someone else’s problem.
That was a wakeup call.
I blurted out, “I just want to see Cocoa again. I don’t want to do anything that would keep me from getting the one thing I want.”
That was weird, now that I type it.
But it’s true. I just want to live a good life, do the right thing — or at least for the right reason — so I get t hug my baby again someday.
Naturally, I am sure that “Doing the right thing” will have to be living up in Pittsburgh for a week and either disposing of all that shit myself or loading it on a truck to go through it here.
Which, that’s all I need is more shit in my house.
If I think I’m buried under work tasks and home tasks now, that ought to be a fucking riot.
Because let’s face it.
The shit in my house is what we never got to use.
The shit in storage is going to have a million memories attached to the people who bought it — Gram and Grampy — and who assumed they’d pass it down to Mom and me.
But I’ve already paid for this storage unit for 2,190 days. Times three.
God damn no wonder I’m glitching.
A flight, a rental car, shipping costs and a hotel for a week will be a lot. But it beats paying for it for another year.