As I was driving home, I had a choice between buying smokes or buying dinner for Mommy.
Mommy got fed. And I’m climbing the walls.
It’s not that I like smoking. I hate everything about it. But I do it as a measure of control — normally on nights like tonight when I find myself feeling so bitter, I could just die.
I was mostly irritated that I got an e-mail from Mom, asking if I could buy her a lamp, when I’ve dumped well-upward of a grand on her rent and bills this month (not including food) and I’m down to nothing and I couldn’t take care of all of MY bills this month.
I am doing far too well on paper to be stretched this thin. It’s really fucking irritating. I deserve a new car or a trip to France. But I had to have my freedom. It’s my own fault. It’s always my fault.
Anyway, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” is on, and it’s the only thing making me happy. Except … I find myself feeling like Sally — hanging around waiting for that stupid Linus to get a clue.
I often pine for D.C. It’s a daily thing. I thought I was so happy there. But even if I wasn’t, I had reached a level of peace about it.
But apparently the premonition I had a month ago came true.
And while I’ve been entangled with enough unavailable men in my day to not believe everything I hear, I wonder if I’d still be sitting in that same stupid pumpkin patch — just like Sally — for absolutely nothing, had I stayed.
I’m sad to say, because of that mini-revelation, I’ve never been so happy to be in Florida.
And if that’s what it had to take, then so be it.
Sally, don’t stay in the pumpkin patch all night. You’re not getting any younger.
If Linus doesn’t love you the way you love him, let him settle for waiting for the Great Pumpkin, instead of the other way around. …