Tuning the NanoViolin 2000

Lady L and I went to church tonight. I’ve missed Sunday night services; it’s been forever since I’ve attended.

I was even telling my old pastor today that I don’t make it to church much anymore. Not sure why I said it. I do find beauty every day and everywhere, and I thank God for letting me experience it. But maybe I’m at a point in my life where I’ve stopped seeking God and started trusting him somewhat.

I say “somewhat” because the UEOEH situation continues to drive me mad. She never takes me seriously that I want her out of here. And now that we’re in car insurance hell, I don’t really care if she doesn’t have any. She’s lost everything. I guess nothing has been important to her. This should be. And of course it will go into the “It’s your fault!” and “You’re mean!” pile like everything else.

My church zen wore off after eight minutes at home, when she banged on my door to babble. I cut her off to say I wanted to move to a studio apartment, and where is she going to go? “Under a bridge” is the answer. I said, look, it’s been three years of sitting on your ass — I don’t see why this has to be a forever thing. Am I supposed to have you in my house for the next 40 years?

She said she’ll go wherever I put her. And that’s the thing — why do I have to pay for it? I don’t mind helping. I’m GLAD to help. Just get out.

So she starts boo-hooing that I’ve eroded her confidence completely and she can’t do anything. That she’s been putting in applications but nobody wants to hire her. It’s ALL MY FAULT for being MEAN to her!!!

I went back to a tune I hadn’t sung in a while — what about volunteering? Nobody turns down free help. I mean, I got each of my last FIVE jobs because I knew somebody. You aren’t going to meet anyone, sitting your ass in front of the Food Network all day. (But, alas, I’m MEAN!)

Incidentally, I’m watching “In Her Shoes” tonight for the thousandth time about sisters in Philadelphia and Delray Beach. One’s a big old screwed-up mooch who gets kicked out because she is her own problem to solve, not her sister’s. Damn, I love this movie. And the scenery is familiar so even better.

I don’t really want to move, BTW. I just want the place to myself. I want her out.

I know she’s got problems. She needs therapy. She started sobbing over overpaying for something today. I know money is scarce for her. I know she can budget like no one I know. But she’s never had the drive to make money. The rent has always been paid, you know? Someone always saves the day.

Lately I’ve thought about having kids. Damn 36. But if she gave up a life to raise me and then figured she could be dependent on me when I got old enough, fuck that noise. Think again. I don’t ever want to feel like my kid owes me. And I WOULD be old as dirt if I had a kid now. 🙂

And it seems that all my friends who are in financial dire straits have the “having kids” thing in common. Sure, they’re rewarding. Eventually. After they get a job. But what about in the meantime when they’re crying, screaming, needy little monsters and Momma doesn’t have enough money for both pinot noir AND back-to-school uniforms? Sorry kid — we’ll alter last year’s!

Anyway, Pastor Todd had said this morning that every person God puts in your life is a gift — even if you wish they came with a gift receipt. And I see mom sitting here being sad about everything — money, missing her parents, knowing I can’t stand her, being helpless, being in pain, being in debt, worrying about everything, being unemployable, etc. Fuck, I’d be depressed, too. I don’t mean to take that away from her.

But the low-cost/free resources in Florida for health care seem really good. But you have to be a resident and guess who keeps dragging her feet on getting a driver’s license? Etc. That sort of thing is what infuriates me. Take a step and I’ll help you take the next two. Sit on your ass and I’ll, so help me God, turn off the cable.

I know she misses her parents. I wonder if I’ll be the same way when she’s gone. I forget pretty much everything about them, sad to say. She reminds me of little things, which is nice. But in the grand scheme of things, aren’t we supposed to move on and live our lives? Like the whole Sept. 11, 2001, adopted motto: “Never Forget.” As if any of us can help but remember. But it hurts a little less every year. Wounds do heal, even if they scar.

I was realizing the message at tonight’s sermon was sort of aimed at me, and sort of not really. I told Lady L that when I first appeared at the church about a year or so ago, I was in a bad place. Spending a year working in the Den of Iniquity will do that to a person. Couple the mom situation and it’s a wonder I didn’t get ammo at Wal-Mart and blow my widdle brains out. And every sermon felt like it was aimed at me — get thee out of despair, child.

And today, I realize I don’t have much to despair about. Other than the seemingly permanent presence of the Food Network-watching gargoyle, I’m good. I have a great friend in Lady L. I <3 her fur-child George. I am in a position of power at work. I’ve got someone looking out for my emotional needs and providing much-needed daydreaming material. I’m about to get another stamp in the passport book in less than six weeks. And we’ve got a road trip planned for Saturday — after I attend a dog-adoption event. 🙂 It’s all good, really.

But I see how happy I am when I’m by myself in Lady L’s palace with George. Or, of course, when she’s there with us. 😉 Naturally! Without her, I would never have gotten to try all the restaurants in the area. Or gotten in the car to visit the Keys or St. Auggie’s. Or to see New Orleans, which we’re doing later this year. Or, for that matter, to have had the fateful happy-hour meeting with my boss before she became my boss.

Lady L has been my lucky charm. Thanks to her, not only do I not have to stare at the UEOEH every fucking day and minute of my life, but the UEOEH recognizes that I’m just not available to bother anymore. I probably have plans with Lady L, she assumes. And, well, she’s right!

Is it so wrong to want to have a perfect life? A robust 401(k) — that is, a prayer of retiring — money, love, travel, peace, social interaction when I want it and silence when I don’t, a job that I actually kick ass in, and a voluntary relationship with my mother without her forcing herself down my throat. Do I really ask for that much?

So, as Pastor John was telling us tonight, Joseph (of the Technicolor Dreamcoat variety) had a shit life. Sold into slavery twice, Pharaoh’s wife kept seducing him and he kept avoiding her in the name of staying true to his God, and all kinds of other crap. Yet he had God’s favor. And everyone around him and even the crops were blessed because of him. Am I Joseph here, without seeing the blessings and simply feeling cursed for the aggravations? If I’m so blessed, why doesn’t it rub off on UEOEH? Why does her dark cloud continue to storm on me?

The good news is that I have gotten rid of all the toxic people in my life. And I’m no longer getting all the hellfire and torture that came along with knowing them. So God’s got my back there. I dunno. I guess I’m wishing the wait would pay off sooner rather than later. Even though I know we’re storing up riches in heaven with all the nice things we do here, I selfishly want to enjoy my time here, too.

Oh well. Fewer than 48 hours till Lady L and I wash down what’s sure to be another insane week with the best mojitos in town. I can’t look forward to UEOEH getting the hint and leaving, but you can set your watch by me numbing the pain with alcohol. 🙂

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