My someone
Friday the 13th.
I haven’t been out of the house since I got home from Orlando.
This is not me. I was walking 25,000 steps a day when I was gone. I was free. I was happy.
Did not gain an ounce.
Now I’m back to drinking a half-bottle of wine a day and I’m up four pounds since Tuesday.
Charming.
I have a dress for a party that I bought a long time ago, thinking surely I will lose 10 pounds and it will be perfect.
Well I’m up eight pounds from that time.
Charming!
When Mom was here and not actively dying, I ran out every night for some sort of dinner or missing ingredient. I don’t do that anymore. Sometimes I go to the gym. Sometimes I crack open dinner in my gym clothes that don’t leave the house.
Today was another first, though.
I was typing something somewhere, and I wrote that I live alone.
I have not lived alone since Sept. 18, 2007, when Mom moved to Maryland. Unceremoniously dumped on my doorstep by Blob with the suspenders.
Talk about someone who not only deserves to die, but actively wished the wife he was separated from at the time that she would die on the operating table because she was getting gastric bypass.
They got back together once Mom came to live with me. They remind me of a certain Greenacres couple, Norbit and Rasputia.
In any event, I guess I don’t live alone, as I have codependent kiddos. But as I sit here trying to throw together details for an unexpected trip, I am really feeling the absence of my someone who would help me without fail or question.
I already miss my someone so freaking much. And times like this only make this great big loss that much greater.