Whiplash

My head is tottering back and forth, this week, between the past and the future. It should be firmly in the present, which continues nonetheless, but it isn’t. It’s one of my many failings, the inability to live in the moment.

It’s spring break for Dusty and Red and I took a few days off to enjoy it with them though the sun decided to take it’s spring break elsewhere. Yesterday, I took the girls to Monticello, at Red’s fervent request, and we got my favorite tour guide. He’s someone an ex-friend and I loved when we went there a few years back and the guide was in fine form. He’s a story teller and clearly loves Mr. Jefferson. I wanted to share this information and couldn’t. Because that friendship is dead apparently and there’s no one else to tell who’d really get it. It’s like being on the losing end of a divorce, I guess. Which I don’t consider myself being on, in terms of my own, so I guess this is my comeuppance. The person I want to share this with, I can’t. So, I just keep the information inside and share it with myself. Which is not really ideal. It’s frustrating.

I’m trying to figure out, in my spare time, late at night, why people hate me. Why I’m not good enough to be friends with. And I’m a bit biased so the exercise goes round and round between thinking they’re all crazy to thinking they’re all correct. I’m trying to accept that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m not all that. I’m something else. And I miss having a best friend and really need one who doesn’t suck the life out of me and require too much and isn’t, in Julia Cameron’s world, a ‘crazy maker’. I tend to attract that type. I’m not sure how to break that cycle. I don’t see my therapist often enough these days to ask her. She thinks I’m doing swell. I’m not so sure. I’m throwing this all out there in an attempt at embracing my vulnerability, but it’s uncomfortable. Maybe that’s a sign I’m doing it right. Who knows? I’m sad. And sometimes lonely. And poor. Who isn’t, right? Or maybe I’m the only one. I don’t know. How are you supposed to know?

I’m scheming, though. I’ve decided what my future will look like, once the kids are out of the house in 8 years or so. It looks like this:

A huge tract of unspoiled land somewhere. With a tiny house, preferably newly built by one of the many well-known tiny house builders. Powered by solar panels and back-up batteries. A well. A composting toilet. The catch is decent internet service, no worse than what I currently have (ie, zero streaming anything). And by tiny, I mean 600-800sf with tall ceilings. I’m claustrophobic so those trailer houses are out. I could write in one but I couldn’t live in one.

And maybe that’s too big. I’m bad at math so I’m throwing a number out there. Maybe I could get by with 400 sf and a separate “shed” for writing. I just know it needs both a bathtub and a shower. And an oven, not a microwave. I hate those things. I like to bake. Skylights would be nice. A wood burning stove or fireplace is a must. I don’t need a/c.

Also, the land would include space and shelter for a couple goats, a few bee hives, a large vegetable garden. A pond, a stream, etc., would be lovely. A beautiful view would be icing on the cake. I don’t want to see or hear anyone. If I want people, I’ll find them. I want a life freed from bills and bills and bills. Something that is weighing me down at present. I want to get rid of most of this stuff. I’ve gotten rid of a lot but if I shrunk down from 1,900 sf to 600 sf, there’s still plenty to let go of.

I want a true root cellar. I want to make candles with beeswax and soap from goat’s milk. Or maybe I don’t, but I could if I wanted to. I want to write surrounded by trees and birds and a couple of cats for company. I want a house that never needs painting, even though I enjoy painting. I want floors, not carpet. I want more nature than I have, which is a lot more than I ever had growing up. I want a screened in porch.

I want to figure out how to be my own best friend in lieu of forcing someone else to take over that role. I want to be okay with this, to embrace loneliness and isolation and turn it into happiness and enough. Sometimes it is. Usually it is. Yesterday it wasn’t.

But that’s in the past. I’m looking forward.

A Day in the Life

I read the news today, oh boy…..Actually I didn’t. I never got around to it. A recent post at Necromancy  spurred me to attempt to track a recent day in my increasingly busy life. I chose Monday and now it’s Thursday and I’m still trying to write this post.

I wrote things down, willy-nilly, on a variety of note paper and post-it notes throughout the day while, at the same time, trying to do the things I made note of. Here’s a photo of the notes:

notes

So, here was my Monday. Not every day is this hectic but as my kids move up to high school and middle school, I have a feeling there will be more like this than not.

6:10am – alarm goes off. Hit snooze.
6:14 – alarm goes off again. Turn it off. Get out of bed. Put on robe, feet in shoes, turn on coffee pot and a few lights, plug in the internet modem (I unplug it at night because it’s in my bedroom – long story – and the lights drive me nuts; I need to sleep in pitch darkness), turn off fan and white noise machine, get in the shower.
6:40 – emerge from bathroom; fill cat bowls with food and water; let Pokey and Franklin in; feed Charlie on the porch; pour cup of coffee; fill girls’ water bottles and place in living room; pull out their lunch bags, insert ice packs and place next to water bottles. Turn on phone.
6:45 – wake up Red. Find out what she wants for breakfast (cereal), ask if she needs to be nebulized (yes).
6:50 – assemble nebulizer and give it to her, set up cereal and soymilk at the table, put Dusty’s bagel and my waffle in the toaster oven, pull out lunch stuff.
7:00 – retrieve nebulizer thing and rinse out, make sandwich, pack lunch. Drink half the now-lukewarm coffee, spread bagel with cream cheese, spread waffle with soybutter, put Dusty’s bagel in a bowl and place next to her lunch.
7:15 – Red emerges and eats breakfast while I get dressed with coffee cup in  tow. Dress. Choose earrings. Pack computer. Bathroom trip. Put on makeup.
7:25 – Tell Red to go brush teeth and hair. Assemble all the things I need to take to work – #s and bills for cancelling things, IRS info re form I need to print and fill out, calendar, book, bag for putting all the things in, computer bag, lunch, purse, second cup of coffee in travel mug. Turn off coffee pot.
7:35 – Red and I get in the car and drive down to bottom of driveway. Grab paper from paper box. Give comics to Red. Listen to radio and discuss what the hell Zayn was thinking to leave 1D. Dusty joins us in the car.
7:57 – Bus, driven by substitute driver, finally arrives 10 minutes late. Dusty and I discuss things – teachers that annoy her, our glee that a CVS is being built nearby, what’s basically going on in her head. This is one of the few times of day that we get to talk.
8:23 – Drop Dusty off at school. Finish coffee.
8:32 – Arrive at work. Bathroom trip. Write morning pages. Eat breakfast. Read email. Plan work day.
9:04 – Work.
9:30 – Meeting with VP that creates more work.
10:30 – Meeting over. Back to work. Print IRS form and put in my bag.
12:23pm – Eat sandwich at desk and call phone company to cancel landline. Cancel Weight Watchers. Cancel old cell phone. Make list of who needs new number.
12:40 – Drive over to mechanic’s and pay off debt with more debt. This should feel like a load off my chest but it doesn’t. I’m still in debt.
12:50 – Work.
3:15 – Leave to pick up Dusty from school and get band cookie dough. Drive back to work and deliver it to our paying customers.
3:40 – Dusty and I leave to pick up Red at after-school care.
4:45 – Home. Bring in mail, feed cats (and let them in), do dishes to clear sink. Make dinner.
5:05 – Eat. Wash more dishes. Bathroom. Change clothes.
6:00 – Leave for the middle school’s “cultural arts night”.
6:25 – Arrive at school. Dusty heads for the band room. Red and I find seats.
7:00 – Concert: chorus sings two songs that are heavy on the religious side (sigh) and band plays two songs. Everyone sounds good but the saxophones.
7:20 – Leave, with Dusty’s friend in tow, before play begins. Drop friend off at home.
7:45 – Home. Red takes a shower while I make her lunch (because of the late hour). Dusty disappears to do homework.
8:00 – Watch The Voice. Red joins me when she’s out of the shower. I heat up a cinnamon roll for her.
8:45 – Set up nebulizer while Red brushes her teeth. She’s nebulized and put to bed.
9:05 – More Voice. Dusty pops in long enough to say good night. I remind her to make her lunch. There’s an audible sigh and a rolling of eyes.
10:00 – Watch a bit more tv, wash more dishes, set up coffee pot for the morning.
10:30 – Bathroom. Brush teeth. Take meds. Turn off lights. Throw cats outside. Unplug modem. Turn on fan and white noise machine. Find book. Crawl in bed. Read for 10 minutes.
11:00 – Good night!