Caterwauling

I don’t know how people can get through life having NO FUCKING CONCEPT of subject-verb agreement. I mean, what is the point of your existence if you can’t communicate in it?

But keeping with my positive outlook, I went to take a walk today and — immediately upon exiting my office — ran into an old friend. Who was going to try a new place for lunch that I hadn’t heard of.

I accompanied him on the long walk and had a wonderful time. And a pretty good lunch.

I tried very hard today. That’s all I can say. And I think the right people have a better idea of just how hard that can be, more often than not.

I’m very tempted to be crabby about some things. But i got to thinking about a video a friend sent me a long time ago. 

Basically the speaker said in one hand you gave crap. And in the other you have a delicious … melting … ice cream cone. 

Guess which one you should focus on. 

I was just thinking how nice it would be to take some time off to deal with my move. 

But I know to be happy I am able to pull it off in the first place and I could afford the deposits and the movers and the buying of overlapping time and storage units to make it possible. 

It’s hard sometimes to keep myself from thinking about what other people have. Time or more money or help or furniture or whatever. In other words, crap. 

Today I’m trying to zero in on the come. And pray it’s not poop-flavored when I get it. 

I said I would only post happy things here. But maybe I can interject thoughtful ones too.

A friend posted something on Facebook that got me to thinking.

Out on social media, lots of people started dumping on a girl about her hair. And let me tell you, her hair was big and blonde and full of beachy waves.

So, I personally think the hateful comments stemmed from jealousy.

It got my friend to thinking about being bullied and otherwise made to feel like crap about his hair. And don’t get me started my lifelong battle with mine.

Nor my nitwit neighbor who flaunts his “stylist to the stars” status yet I’ve never seen him on the “Real Housewives of New York” with whom he claims to be BFFs.

But BOY does he have things to say to/about me without ever offering any help.

My thought is this.

My friend and I have known each other forever and ever. And yet it’s only with that Facebook post — made 22.5 years after we first met — that we realize how miserably insecure we both were about certain things at the time.

The same things.

Go figure.

It kind of makes me smile but not in an overly happy way that we were both shy about certain things. And again, some of the same things. And just didn’t reach out to each other because of them.

It makes me sad to know that my friend was hurting about things I didn’t know about. And I imagine, him being the good guy he is, he would probably feel the same way if he knew what I was holding back.

As for what people think about us now, well, trolls will be trolls. In real life or otherwise.

They just don’t matter. And now, they know it. And even though we always knew they didn’t matter, it’s nice that we turned out just fine … and that they can see it right before their mean little eyes.

If you don’t believe in divine intervention, I have a story for you.

Mom doesn’t want to move. Mom has been begging me not to move. She is so sad about losing the view. Losing the familiarity. Losing the “knowing where shit is.”

She’s been very passively-aggressively making me feel like shit for uprooting her from the place she’s been bitching at me for six years about taking in the first place.

She says the signs are there to stay put”

• In the past few days, I got a brand-new key to a door that I can’t for the life of me unlock with my own key.
• A brand-new streetlight was installed in our parking lot. No more falling in potholes when Evil Landlady 5 and the Maintenance Man from Hell forget to turn on the lights for the weekend.
• Our bridge that connects us to the other side of the Intracoastal, which has been under construction for months, is back to normal as of yesterday.

Still. I got a storage unit and have been shoving shit in there on a regular basis. I got the new apartment and lined up the mover for April 4.

And then today the memo came …

Construction starts on the north side of the building next week.

Our windows get torn out … we lose four feet of space from the outside-in … and wet, yucky, dirty, disgusting plywood gets put into the place of the windows.

That’s four feet from inside every outside wall. And I have a corner unit. My bedroom literally becomes a 5′ x 5′ closet because I have the corner.

That last mess starts April 6.

Two days after I have GOTTEN THE FUCK OUT OF THERE.

I like to think this is good karma paying off.

Whatever it is, I’m so very grateful …

I’m going to take a page out of my own book and shut my little trap for a while. Maybe forever. I don’t know.

I found a long time ago that being silent, compliant and unopinionated (out loud, anyway) was always the best course of action.

And let’s face it. Being myself has never done me any favors.

So, I’m going to learn my lesson before it beats me over the head.

If you see me smiling, that’s because I’m in my happy place.

Do not attempt to pull me out of it.

Trust me, it’s better for all of us.

I can tell it’s going to be One of Those Weeks. Not a bad one. Just a crazy-busy one at work.

I called a mover. He said we can move the Saturday before Easter. Sigh. I was hoping to do it sooner. But goodness knows I can use the extra time.

I know it’s going to be another week that I don’t do certain projects on my list and then I will feel my soul crushed under the weight of “great, another Thing not done.”

I reached out to a gal I wanted to hire last year. She said to call when I moved to her neighborhood and here I am. If only she had been eager to drive out to Egypt for a few months, we could have had such a lovely list of achievements by now.

She isn’t returning my calls. WHY DOES NOBODY RETURN MY CALLS WHEN I WANT TO HIRE THEM!?!

I’m trying very hard to not be nervous about my load with the move coming up.

The way I figure, God gave me two gifts that I get to open each day — my eyes. Everything else, then, is surmountable.

Of course, try telling that to my knotted-up belly …

Caesar: “The ides of March have come.”
Seer: “Aye, Caesar, but not gone.”

The good news: The HOA finally approved me to move in to my new place. The bad news, that’s the only progress I’ve made.

I’m doing battle with the scale. The stress is doing me in.

The date went OK. He offered to help with the move. I am not a fan of asking for, or accepting, help because the thought of owing people makes me insane.

The only moment of sanity I experienced this moment is when I read “The Ultimate Guide to Changing Your Life.” I’ve seen this guy speak a few times and I’d love to be his editor.

That post is all over the map (as is this one), but it made me feel less alone that I’m all over the map and lost and scared and disappointed and frustrated and angry and a little bit crazy too.

Like I tried to tell myself in a slightly insane moment yesterday, change is supposed to hurt. That’s what makes us want to get through it as fast as possible once it starts.

I just wish people didn’t find it necessary to scar my soul and distract me from concentrating on me and what’s important to me in the meantime.

Just applied for SSDI for Mom. Got denied because she doesn’t have a long enough work history.

I think I cried all night after I got the letter.

Took a long walk this morning to clear my head. One of my last walks along my stretch of the beach/A1A.

Cried some more.

I don’t want to stay at my house. The construction will kill me if the sentimentality about leaving my little beach house doesn’t.

I wonder if this move will break mom’s heart. Or body. She’s been working so hard to pack and clean and organize so I can focus on That Thing That Takes Up Most of My Waking Hours.

But I can see her falling apart. And I can’t dash her hopes that Disability won’t come through. She needs that hope. It’s all she’s got.

Speaking of hope, I still haven’t heard from my new HOA and I still haven’t told Evil Landlady 6 the exact date she can take this place and shove it. She already plans to charge me a penalty but I’m going to fight it in court if I have to.

You know, because spending money on this dump and not say on mom is JUST what I want to do. Grrr.

I know the universe loves and supports me and wants to see me happy, healthy and successful. And that’s the only reason I haven’t yet fallen apart completely.

And I’ll try hard to not wish someone who still has a window to grab my heart will rescue me. 

I’ll try even harder to not wonder if he even would if he could.