Caterwauling

Today is one of my last work-from-home Fridays in my bedroom that overlooks the Intracoastal to the west. I can also look east at the ocean from my north-facing window.

I’m sad because I have loved this view and haven’t spent enough time taking advantage of it. Sadder still that I have access to a private beach and I might have visited it a dozen times in the last few years.

Mom is not happy with my apartment choice. Lost views and private beach access notwithstanding, it has carpet. It’s a lot of white. And it’s smaller. And a bunch of other things.

So basically she’s gone from, “I hate this dump” to “What possessed you to take me away from this wonderful place?”

She’s got a point. It costs the same. It’s not ideal in any way. But it overlooks a quiet lake. And there’s a Starbucks within walking distance.

And sure, I’m not a fan of paying for the basketball court and gym and three pools downstairs.

But after six years of b.s. from the McManagement here, isn’t it time for a change of scenery … even if the scenery is less beautiful?

I already don’t have time to fill out the paperwork let alone to pack and clean and call movers and, oh, tell the current place I’m leaving. Now to have this lady with a heavy heart looking sad all the time because I’m uprooting her? If the move itself doesn’t kill me, that will.

I am moving!

I’m trying not to spread the word.

Mostly because it’s been nonstop aggravation to get paperwork together and then not know if the apartment owner was going to let me have it or not.

And because the nutty HOA still needs blood samples, urinalysis, an IQ test and a whole bunch of cashiers checks before they agree to let me into their hallowed halls.

And also I know other people who are apartment-hunting and I don’t want them in mah new ‘hood.

This is why I refuse to date people I know — whether it’s the same company, same building, same city … fuck, same state!

When I am determined to ignore my phone, I don’t want anybody showing up at my doorstep. Or being able to see where my car is parked. Or knowing my status, whether it’s “online” or “alone tonight.”

Unrelated: Three years of not picking up the phone. Three. And we wonder why I’m moving into a near-fortress …

Forget Throwback Thursday (#tbt for all you young’ns at heart out there).

I’m initiating Throat-Punch Tuesdays instead (#tpt).

Actually some friends already coined Throat-Punch Thursdays because they aren’t the sentimental “throwback” types. Their rule is they pick one person they all want to take their aggressions out on.

Personally I just want to introduce myself to people who, in no way under God’s beautiful ball of sunshine in the sky, should have bequeathed a degree to people only because they paid for it.

I’m also ready to whip out a can o’ whup-ass for people who are difficult for the sake of being so.

You know, maybe if everyone weren’t so damn HIGH-MAINTENANCE we wouldn’t need to dedicate so many hours/tears/bottles of “coping juice” to the same cause.

“I’m trying hard to make you love me
But I don’t wanna try too hard
And I’m trying hard to take it lightly
But we’re here now.”

— Broods, “Four Walls”

I have a cousin we named “Sue,” because she successfully sued lots of people and that money is now paying for her nursing-home care.

I know another person who flails their arms and screams, “Litigation!” on a dime.

Now we know where “A Boy Named Sue” originated!

In any event, this is stressing me out and I’ve been taking it out on Mom. More than usual.

She had a mini-stroke this morning as I was overreacting to something. And no, I still haven’t gotten her health care. So I have to leave her at home to go deal with Sue instead.

I used to love my life. I’m going to try very hard to remember those days to get me through.

I just know I’m going to lose my mom sooner rather than later, and I’m going to have a U-Haul and a Pod full of regret on how very wrongly I’ve felt compelled to invest my time while I had her.

I have a friend I hang out with. And I know that when we hang out, I won’t get home till sunrise.

Today was one of those days. Oof.

I deserved that night out. I spent the day dragging mom around town to look at rental communities. Which, there aren’t many and they’re all overpriced, to say the very least.

We are to a point where staying at the Wreck of the Hesperus is starting to become a viable option.

Then out of the blue a realtor I talked to like a hundred years ago offered to show me a place. I said why not. And I loved it and now I’ve filled out a thousand pages of paperwork and am waiting for the owner to accept my offer.

Yes, you have to put in offers on rental spaces. What the actual fuck?

I made a full-price offer even though this place is way above what I wanted to pay. I figure that it’s going to take me at least 10 months to break even on the move, if it even happens.

There’s another offer from the owner’s friend. But she can’t seem to get her shit together with the paperwork. And I sat down for four hours yesterday and cranked out all my paperwork. So, being an A-student hopefully pays off.

I’m not worried. It’s in God’s hands now. And if it falls through, I am going to keep a super-close eye on that building.

Also, I’m going to need a second job. Or to quit spending money. Or to quit drinking, which is where all my money goes!

The same person who is threatening my livelihood texted me at 3:45 a.m. with the promise to send me more work. Yay.

I miss having someone to consume my waking and dreaming hours. Even though I ruin it every time by not knowing when to “Say When,” it did at least inspire me to sneak to Starbucks midday to text with said person. And I couldn’t wait to talk with him after work. So work sometimes didn’t drag on into the wee hours.

Now that it’s back to “all work and no play,” I notice that I’m producing the same level of output but investing a LOT more time and effort into it.

Funny how having more to juggle (not including 10,000-word essays on the Kremlin) made my life better and easier and more worthwhile.

Clearly I need more play.

I will remember today as basically the day when the “cost center” I do the most work for (40+hours/wk), got me into trouble for not doing more.

And also for doing what I do, as well as I do. Because it takes tiiiiimmmmmeee.

In any event, what I heard today loud and clear is, “It’s not you, but you’re the easiest one to throw under the bus.”

Instead of apartment-hunting this weekend, I guess I should look for a cardboard box to live in.

Smart, Attractive, Sweet Acquaintance Facebooks me to ask if Cute But Not Particularly Bright Boy we both know is single.

Sidenote: Why does everyone Facebook me to ask me to introduce them to people?

I LOL. Because I have So Many Reactions and None of Them are Good.

I passed the message along, not mentioning any names. He seemed to know and picked up his phone.

SASA messages me to say thanks but apparently he’s talking to someone.

Sidebar: Is that what the kids do today? “Talk?” In my day, we didn’t exactly use words beyond, “Mmmmmm,” “Aaaaaah” and “Oh God”!

Another Sidebar: Wonder what these people saying about me behind my back.

In any event I said good and said very nicely, “We smart single girls need to aim higher than the men of (place we know them from).”

She said, “Aaah I see what you’re saying.”

Yeah. Thank goodness.

I don’t mind correcting the grammar of super-intelligent people who are amazing at other things.

But constantly correcting grammar of someone who somehow graduated from J-School?