I Guess It’s Over…

Stacey came storming into the house last night saying we needed to talk. I knew exactly what that meant when a woman says that.

“This is just not going to work,” she told me with a furious look on her face. “I never get to see you and when I do, you are sleepy and tired.”

“What can I do about it?” I asked, flummoxed. “I have to go to work! I have to support myself!”

“I think we need some time to just think about where YOU want to take things!”

“Fine,” I said complacently and she left after staying only a few moments.

I had already cooked supper and set the table. I sat and ate alone last night. I guess it’s over. I haven’t heard from her since. I am thinking I jumped into a relationship too soon into my recovery anyway. I felt an odd sense of relief last night at the possibility of no longer being badgered about our relationship for a change. I am just going to lie low and put the ball in Stacey’s court. Let her do what she will. Mentally and anxiety-wise, I can’t take any fights or arguments. I have enough on my plate at the moment for the time being with work.

Cellphones Galore…

I have to work again tonight and the overtime will be nice. I didn’t complain or balk when my supervisor asked me to work six days in a row once again. Nights are boring without work – with me just sitting at home alone all night with nothing to do, but use the Internet and watch TV.  Most of my Twitter friends are asleep and Facebook is a wasteland after midnight.

Cellphones kept me busy last night. Everyone was wanting our new low cost plans and phones. I am urged to sell the most cellphone for the most money, but I am like these people and realize I spent too much money on my Crackberry and an expensive data plan. I should’ve bought something more simple and economical. These new Wal-Mart branded phones we are selling have few bells and whistles, though, so are not for the tech savvy consumer. They are just for people who only casually and intermittently use their phones – not for the power user.  They are mainly for very frugal people and low income families. I think it is a good thing our company is doing and so good for competition in a cellphone market glutted with expensive phones and outrageous service plans.

A Political Animal…

“I am hoping we can get another tax cut,” Jim told me last night eating his turkey and Swiss on rye. “Be sure to vote coming up!”

“Oh, I am the kind of person you don’t want to vote,” I replied with a warm smile and laugh. “I believe in taxes and think we must pay our part to help the common good. I just wish the money was spent wisely and not on the military and wars. I think the tax system needs to be reformed, though. Our tax code is over 70,000 pages long! I would like to see a flat tax or a national sales tax.”

“What would you spend the money on if you were President?” Jim asked.

“Education and economic stimulus for family owned businesses,” I replied. “I would bolster the middle class and do away with welfare for corporations.”

“But you work for one of the biggest, most profitable corporations in our country,” Jim said contrarily.

“I know,” I replied. “It is a bit of irony with my unorthodox political and socioeconomically interesting leanings, but it was an economic necessary evil for me.”

Update on George…

George’s keen sense of humor has seemed to have returned after his long tenure in prison. This morning he was talking about all the women he was going to bed in the upcoming months before Christmas. I laughed as I walked alongside of him as he pushed in a long string of carts. I realize my best friend can be kind of simple minded at times – the most basic human needs and aspirations motivating him. 

“You need to experience a black woman at least once in your life,” George told me.

I smiled as I told him I think I was with a black woman once sexually, but was too drunk to remember it.

“That doesn’t count,” George said with a serious look on his face. “You would have remembered it as a good black woman would knock your socks off!”

I burst out laughing and told George I was always open to possibilities.

Give a Crackhead Ten Bucks…

That same black girl from the other night that accosted me for a cigarette was sitting outside on the retaining wall swinging her legs like a child by the convenience store.  She must live in the neighborhood right behind the store.  When I was teenager, I could’ve thought of a hundred better things to do with my time than this I thought.

“You gonna give me a cigarette today?” she asked smiling when she saw me as if nothing ever happened the other night.  I guess she had forgotten she had told me to, “fuck off!”

“Smoke thou shalt not! Cancer it doth cause!” I replied laughingly mocking her.  She was so rude to me the other night that I decided to have a little fun with her.

“Just one cigarette!” she pleaded.

“Why don’t just give a crackhead ten bucks and they will buy you a pack,” I told her. “Crackheads are everywhere around here!  Look! There goes one right now!” 

The woman I pointed at looked like your stereotypical crackwhore.  She had the bulbous Adam's apple and bobbing chickenhead so characteristic of them.  The dark circles under her eyes and pallid skin gave away her drug habit.

The girl said a few more obscenities to me as I walked off ignoring her pleading with my beer now in my backpack.  I turned, lit up of a cigarette, and smiled devilishly mocking her.  I was being so bad tonight and felt so cheeky.  Payback is hell as they say.

I think the park was glad to see me when I arrived after a short walk up the street.  The mockingbirds were singing joyously.  That long crescendo of a cicada’s shrill call rang out.  My usual cadre of black boys were playing basketball in the court.  I sat down on my bench and began my first beer – my sunset brews. I donned my headphones and began to listen to my radio.  This is quickly growing to be one of my favorite nightly rituals.  I only bought two beers tonight feeling adventurous. I really don’t have an excuse to drink anymore other than I like the pleasant soft buzz it imparts – this peaceful, numb feeling.  My anxiety has decided to leave me for the time being.   It has been two days without anxiety and that is just amazing!

Think Before You Smoke Dummy…

  “I hate to get on to you. You’ve done so well, but you don’t need to be smoking as you bring the carts in from the parking lot,” my supervisor told me this morning.  “Smoke off to the side of the store near the oil change area. You’re doing an awesome job, though.  That’s my only complaint with what you are doing.”

“Sorry!” I replied, feeling like crap. I am so sensitive – really a perfectionist at heart. I can’t take much criticism.  “I just wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”

“It just looks bad,” my supervisor said. “Remember you are representing the store and you are usually the first Wal-Mart employee customers see besides the greeter.”

Work was routine other than that. I trained the new guy – a big bustling black guy named Quentin with a speech impediment.  I just about couldn’t understand what he was saying, but it grew easier over time.  We are going to be the disability crew at Wal-Mart.  Me with mine.  Him with his.  I handled the grocery side of the store which is usually busier and got him to handle the other slower sundry side as I call it. He did an awesome job and I bragged on him many times during the day.  I felt the encouragement was necessary just like my coach did for me my first day.  I have come to the conclusion that he is mentally not quite right like me as well.

Work was pretty slow, though, which made the hours seem to pass so much longer. I felt bad for Quentin who didn’t have a lot to do his first day. He spent much of his time sitting on my milk crate outside the store looking like a lost puppy.  The carts were just not piling up very fast or at all today.  It was easy to stay caught up.  I found myself spending most of my time today inside wandering the store and looking at the various products for purchase to pass the time. Wal-Mart has a dizzying array of things for sell inside.  I spent a very long time in the electronics department salivating again.  I am such an electronics aficionado. I marveled at the flat screen LCD televisions for awhile.  I also took a long time to compare all the different cell phones, their features, and service plans thinking of buying one soon for my yard care business.  On my break, I walked up to Arby’s and got the number 19 special just like Charlie and I always do.  The novelty of buying my own food with my own money still hasn’t worn off. 

My supervisor finally let me and Quentin go early.  She kept expecting things to get busy, but they never did.  I was glad to clock out for a change.  It had been a very long day since 8am – a day of wandering the inside of the store aimlessly.  I bet they got nuts after we left! lol I hope I don’t get a phone call to come back in this afternoon.  I am worried about my hours already as far as my disability is concerned.  They are slowly accumulating.  My first paycheck should be pretty good!

The Thawing of the Ice…

Dad is warming up to me after being cold as ice for days.  He was in a much better mood this morning as far as I was concerned.  He is treating me like a human being again.  He was asking me trivia questions saying we are such total geeks.  He is always surprised at what I will know.  I have always been fascinated by so many various topics over the years. I consider my brain a sponge – soaking up knowledge.

“What were the two capitols of the confederacy?” he asked me this morning as we sat at the kitchen table eating biscuits and bacon after our medication ritual.

“Richmond, Virginia and Montgomery, Alabama,” I replied.

“I knew you would know that!!!” dad exclaimed excitedly. “You are such a history geek just like me!  Your brother said you would know it when I asked him.  He didn’t know it and he’s the doctor!”

“When I was in college at Montevallo, I would sit for hours in the library reading about the confederacy and the civil war. Piles of books would surround me,” I told him.

“I asked that same question of your mother a moment ago and she said Washington D.C.!” he said laughing.  “That was the capitol of the northern states!”

We both laughed jovially.  My dearest mother.  You can ask mom about her grandmother and she will say, “I don’t know” like she never knew her and they were very close and dear to each other.

“Your mother was a school teacher for over twenty years and should know that!” dad said good heartedly and poking fun as mom walked into the kitchen to get a diet Coke out of the fridge.

I am off of work tomorrow and it is going to be nice.  I am not going to mow any lawns either I don’t think. I’ll say that and then I will.  I have to trim that man’s shrubbery, but it won’t take long.  He’s my main benefactor these days and I don’t want to let him down.  I have been thinking of hitting the mill village with my push mower and mow the small lawns there for $5 dollars each.  I am probably taking a complete day off, though, as far as mowing lawns is concerned.  I feel I deserve it after working so hard all week.  Although, I don’t know what I am going to do with myself after being so busy for so many days.  I will probably spend lots of time in the park smoking cigarettes and listening to AM talk radio. Anything to not be stuck at this house all day with nothing to do but the Internet.

BTW, I bought that printer for printing out blog posts for George.  He is going to be elated.  He will get to read exactly what I am doing these days.  It was such a small thing I could do to make life more pleasant for my jailed best friend.  I’ve already got several posts in the mailbox with the flag up.

Well, I am off to go watch some trains and then drink my sunset brews in the park.  I hope the trains are running today.  I saw an engine switching cars on my way to work this morning and it excited me.  I’ll write again later tonight!

All Hell Broke Loose…

“All hell broke loose after you left work yesterday,” my supervisor told me after I had clocked in this morning early at 7:30.Yesterday morning had been so slow so I was surprised at this revelation. “Things got frantic! The store got really, extremely busy after lunch and the guy that works second shift called in and said his car was broke down and he didn’t have a ride to work. I had to get one of the guys in the grocery department to help me bring carts in. He wasn’t too happy when his supervisor made him help. He felt is was beneath him and his normal job. He wasn't much help. I was so angry!  I tried to call you, but I kept getting a busy signal.  I wanted you to come back in.”

We walked outside and I surveyed the parking lot more carefully. It was going to be a very busy morning. There were carts scattered everywhere haphazardly and the parking lot is huge.  Bedlam! I was glad, though, in a way. I would stay busy and the four hours would pass by fast. I would later learn I was to work six hours to get things caught up we were so behind.  

“I may need for you to start working longer hours temporarily,” my supervisor told me. “Do you think you can handle it? The guy on second shift is proving to be not very reliable. I don’t trust him.”

“I think I can,” I replied a little apprehensively. 

“How does your mental disability affect you?” my supervisor asked very candidly out of true concern.

“I just have lots of anxiety when I get stressed or physically overdo things,” I replied honestly, but apprehensively.  “I have to be careful about my heart rate.”

“Well, if you can work till two today then I will really appreciate it,” she told me. “Your doing such a good job and I really need the help. I don’t want to put too much pressure on you all at once, though.  You can take as many breaks as you like as long as the job gets done.”

“Keep in mind that if I make too much money, it will affect my Social Security disability,” I told her assertively and ever worried about that.

“We’ll work on it,” she told me reassuring me. “I can understand your concerns about that. I’ll give you a few days off in a few days. I need your help right now really badly. I am trying to hire someone else to work the second shift that is a better worker. It is going to be kind of crazy until then, though.”

I finally said I could work the two extra hours. I was worried she was going to want me to work all day for eight or more hours and I had that yard care job to do this afternoon. I had told the man I was to work for this afternoon trimming his undergrowth that I probably wouldn’t be there until late in the afternoon anyway so that set my mind at ease some. I was hoping to miss the hottest part of the day before I started that exhausting and extremely hot job ahead of me.

It took me all morning to get caught up. I have to handle both sides of the store – the grocery side and the sundry side. Both doors and both cart stations. It was oppressively hot today.  I was a sweaty mess by noon. My clothes were wringing wet. The thermometer on the bank across the highway read 101 at 11am. The hours just flew by I was so busy much to my relief. I found myself lost in the work for hours on end. I had to take lots of breaks from the heat, though, this morning and afternoon. I quickly drank all the water in my cooler and then had to refill my water bottles inside from the bathroom sink. I wasn’t about to buy expensive bottled water when there was free water in the bathroom. The only thing I bought today was another bag of ice.

I was also really missing my Klonopin I normally take to make it through work. I really struggled with my anxiety today and I think it was because of the heat and with work being so hectic. I was saving them for this afternoon for a much harder job physically. I really can’t wait to take them. It will make the yard care job so much more pleasant as that wave after wave of calmness those pills impart envelope me. Comfortably numb comes to mind.  

Well, I am off to do my “real” job for the day – the hard job.  I so hope that anxiety doesn’t bother me.  I already feel better mentally and anxiety wise this afternoon.  I am about to take my two Klonopin which will help greatly and drive over to get started.  It is going to be a long, hot afternoon of hard taxing yard work.  This man’s yard is a mess.  I keep thinking of that $75 dollars I am going to get paid tomorrow when I finish to urge me on and keep me motivated. 

Adventures in Blog Writing…

My recent forays into writing honestly about my life have really shown me what my readership can be like at times and what blogging can be like when things go terribly, horribly wrong when you are honest.  Most people don’t reveal much on their blogs except the feel good stuff – the kind of stuff you only reveal in polite company. I guess I should as well.  I’ve always had suspicions that 95% of my readership are just gawking at my unorthodox life that I blather on about like an idiot – laughing at me and marveling that a 38 year old man can live this way. Navel gazing.  Only one person who reads the blog calls me regularly and attempts to reach out to me beyond the blog and it is Kirs.  She has been very supportive about the anxiety attacks giving me tons of suggestions on how to control it. She suffers deeply as well. 

Are all these people really my friends?  I am seriously growing to doubt it.  I am just entertainment.  It is not very flattering to be honest that I have all these malignant anonymous people reading. I would quit writing the blog if I didn’t enjoy writing so much and having an audience to read it. I could just lie and write a completely feel good,boring alcohol free blog.  Nobody would ever know the difference – knowing only what I reveal in my posts.  I am a very creative writer and could paint a story of mental health bliss, AA meetings, and sobriety. I already hide 95% of my experiences with schizophrenia, psychosis, and extreme anxiety so as not to worry my readers so it wouldn’t be very hard to do. I find it depressing to write about. I find it frankly boring as well as I read countless other mental health blogs that blather endlessly about these topics.  It grows tiresome. It seems like attention seeking.

I also haven’t been drinking so much as for it to effect my writing and my life.  I have been pleasantly surprised as to my moderation.  Years ago, I would drink until I was blitzed.  I really just want to quell the anxiety and not really get drunk per se.  I’ve gotten where I don’t like the feeling of being out of control that being seriously drunk imparts. I’ve grown out of that phase of my life.

I choose to write honestly about my life experiences because it is cathartic for me.  I’ve said it before, but my blog is therapy. It would be much, much easier for me to just lie and paint a perfect picture.  The anonymous commenters would stay away and my regular supportive commenters would be happy.  The anonymous commenters only come out when things are going wrong, controversial, or negative – taking delight in my downfall they think.  

Now, I’ve got extremely crazy overbearing people trying to call my father and interrupt his hard earned vacation and to worry him.  He only gets to see his grandchildren maybe twice a year, but these people don’t give a shit.  They just want to control me and get me in trouble – taking joy out of “turning me in”.  People calling themselves bitches and saying they care anyway.  They are calling the pharmacy so they allege (and there is no way in hell one of my father’s employees would give out his cellphone number).  They are saying they are going to find my brother in Virginia.  That is stalking and against the law! Who’s the villain here?  I don’t care.  Go ahead and call.  What can happen except to ruin my father’s vacation and make him worry about me?  There is little he can do being in Virginia.  You are not going to coerce me as you are attempting to do Marsha.

I’ve also got all kinds of anonymous yahoos boisterously blathering on about my faults and foibles.  Now I know how Kevin “The Homeless Guy” Barbieux must have felt when he wrote about such controversial topics honestly as homelessness and political dissidence on his blog. It made him quit writing about his life and writing his blog, and he had such an interesting story to tell we could all learn from. He was always so stirred up and crazed by the comments he would get.  It really stirs the crazies up. Well, I have a much thicker skin than he does though. I am not going to quit writing, but this post will probably kill my readership, but I don’t care.  I started out with two readers, Pipe Tobacco and Annabel, and will start again. The blog is definitely taking a different direction these days that I find so interesting to write about with me getting out of the house for a change.  I will garner a new readership that enjoys reading these kinds of posts. 

People try to control you and cajole you into thinking their way and towing the line I have learned in life.  Guess what people?  I am 38 years old.  It is America and a free country.  I have the choice to do with my body what I will and it is nobody else’s business unless I allow them entry into my life.  I am not breaking any laws.  It is just amazing to me the parallels with what I am experiencing on the blog to my father’s own way of doing things.  It is uncanny the similarities.   Coercion.  Malice.  Threats.  Derisions.  Demeaning comments.  Such controlling people.  It runs the gamut.  Is America really a free country or are we all controlled by peer pressure and social mores?

It is obvious I didn’t go camping last night as I am writing this at home at 5am.  I felt mentally shaky last night and decided just to stay home and rest, drinking my sunset brews, and I sat on my porch watching the neighborhood fireworks.  The neighbors really put on a show last night and it was fun to see.  They always go all out and must spend a fortune on all those fireworks. I also felt better for watching my British comedies.  Hyacinth was in fine form last night and so was Mr. Humphries.

Later in the evening, I walked down to the convenience store to pick up a bottle of wine and some cigars.  I then walked back up to the park to sit in a swing and listen to Coast to Coast AM.  Tonight’s show was about psychic vampires instead of traditional blood sucking vampires.  It was okay.  I’ve heard better.  It was hosted by Ian Punnett.  My favorite Coast host.  He made it worthwhile.

Yesterday morning, I drove down to Wal-Mart for the preliminaries of being hired.  I had to sign all the tax withholding paperwork and they had to make copies of my social security card and driver’s license.  I start work Monday and I am so excited and scared at the same time.  Can I do this?  Have I bitten off more than I can chew mentally?  The lady assured me it was a job I could handle even with a disability.  Next? I have to drive down to Opelika to the Social Security office to report I have returned to work and to report my pay which falls into the acceptable limits.  The will give me a receipt as proof that I did this.  It is very, very important that I do this from reading Social Security’s website.  The lady at Wal-Mart assured me they are going to work with me on this as far as my hours are concerned so I won’t go over the pay limit. If they don’t play nice, then I will just quit. I just can’t jeopardize the $1300 dollars a month I receive in help with my medications with Medicare part D. 

Someone asked why I started back drinking.  I was simply to quell the anxiety I was experiencing.  I don’t think people realize from my writing about it how horribly crippling this anxiety was.  I was miserable and was willing to try anything.  The medications my psychiatrist prescribes just weren’t working and I am not to see him for another eight weeks.  I had to do something to make myself feel better and it was working.  It is medicine. I am simply self medicating.  I will have to work very hard to not let the drinking spiral out of control, but I think I can do it.  I’ve felt so much better it is amazing.  Would you begrudge a man simply wanting to feel better?

My Thoughts for the Blogging Day…

Accidents Happen…

“I did something terrible!” Mrs. Florene told me frantically after calling me early this morning.  “I ran all into the side of the garage with the Skylark.  I was going to buy my groceries when the grocery store opened at six.”

I drove over to take a look at her request.  I expected the worst from what Mrs. Florene had described on the phone.   It really wasn’t that bad.  The front quarter panel of the Skylark was dented and scraped.  There was no damage to the the garage.

“I was up at six,” I told Mrs. Florene. “Call me next time and I will drive you.  You know me.  I keep odd sleeping hours.  I am usually available.”

I assured Mrs. Florene that I would take the Skylark to the body shop for an estimate Monday.  She is just going to pay to have it fixed and not file it on her insurance.  Shit happens as they say.  Mrs. Florene is certainly getting older in her seventies and I don’t how much longer she will be able to drive. 

Boom, Boom, Boom!

Superglue is an amazing thing.  I painstakingly repaired my subwoofer with superglue yesterday -- carefully gluing the torn speaker pieces into place.  The proof in the pudding was when I fired up my stereo and cranked up the volume.  Pounding bass!  The kind of bass that rattles the kitchen cabinets.   I was so happy and overjoyed. I was sharing my exuberance with everyone in my family.  “Just what in the hell is a subwoofer?” dad asked.  Mom asked the same thing. I laughed -- so happy to have my subwoofer back. 

The Great Rift Ends…

It is like I have been caught in a chasm all week.  It happens every week.  Daytime AM radio is populated with outlandish conservative talk shows -- politics in a particular.   Something I don’t particularly relish.   The weekend means I can listen to my beloved AM talk radio again in the daytime.  Shows like Kim Komando and Leo Leporte help me with my computer.  Cigar Dave regales me in tales of some of the finest cigars in the land.  Car and Driver radio talks about the latest Lamborghini.  It is refreshing and much needed after a week of listening to talking heads bitch about “Obama Care” and illegal immigrants. 

The Bane of Maggie’s Existence…

It has started lately – the roving yard cutters.  They will knock on your door and ask if you want your grass cut.  It has already happened two times today.   One black man is riding around the neighborhood on a riding lawn mower asking people if they need their grass cut.  The sound of that loud and raucous mower is driving me crazy.  I can seemingly hear it blocks away. 

Well, this just drives Maggie crazy.  She has been in a stir all morning.  I watched as that black man pulled up in front of my house on that mower and thought, “Oh shit!  Maggie’s going to bark for an hour!”  She did.  And I am aggravated that all these people knocking on my door sends my social anxieties skyrocketing!  These people are as bad as telemarketers and I am not exaggerating.  Maybe it’s just the poor neighborhood I live in, but it gets old quick every summer.  

Like Totally Grossed Out, Dude!

I was just lying in the bed when Maggie snuggled up to me after being outside for about thirty minutes doing her business.  She was acting awful spastic for a time she is usually conked out within minutes of climbing on the bed.  I kept feeling something wet brush against my leg so I turned on the light to see if Maggie or I had an accident while I was asleep.  THERE WAS A DEAD WET BABY RAT IN THE BED!  Maggie had found a new toy and wanted to share it with me.  Well, stupid me thought it was small enough to flush down the toilet.  Did it go? NO!  Now, I’ve got to fish a dead rat out of the toilet and go tosh it over the fence where Maggie can’t get it.  I am tired.  I am going to bed.  Floating dead rats can wait until the morning.  LOL

Crash, Bang, Boom!

I was just talking to Mrs. Florene on the phone when I heard a loud crash, squeal and boom.  It sounded like someone’s car had hit my house.

“What was that?” Mrs. Florene asked. “That was loud.”

“I don’t know,” I replied, stymied. “It sounded like something just hit my house.”

I got off the phone and looked out every window until I got to the window in my back bedroom.  I saw my neighbor’s car sitting in the front yard across the street from his house.  His garage was mangled – the left side corner completely torn off and the garage door was laying in the driveway.  I called Mrs. Florene back.

“My elderly neighbor that lives behind me just had a bad accident,” I told her. “He must have hit the gas instead of the brake when he was pulling out of the garage.”

“Oh Lord,” Mrs. Florene replied. “Go see if they need some help.”

It was raining heavily now.  I hesitated for about thirty minutes worried about getting involved.  I finally got in my car and drove around the block as the police just arrived to fill out a report.  The neighbor’s car was still sitting in the yard across the street.  He was standing in the rain looking completely confused.  With the police being there, I just drove back home satisfied they had enough help.

You never know what is going to happen in my neighborhood.  This was coming on the heels of some Mormon missionaries that visited this morning.  Amazingly, I let them in much to Maggie’s chagrin.  Maggie completely checked them out -- thoroughly sniffing their dress shoes and the nice pants of their Sunday best.  They were wearing sharp black overcoats in anticipation of the rain arriving. 

“Have you found God in your life?” one missionary asked me as we sat on the couch. 

“Oh, yes!” I replied. “I’ve found God and Jesus both.”

The other missionary chuckled saying I sounded like I had found them in my backyard.  I enjoyed his candidness.   Both young boys laughed. 

“Do y’all want a soda?” I asked.

Both boys declined and were soon on their way.  They thanked me for letting them in.  They said they had been to countless houses all morning to find people that just didn’t want to fool with them.  I admired their zeal and zest they had for something they so strongly believed in.  The only real reason I let them in, though, was I had seen a special on PBS Knowledge yesterday on Mormonism.  I was interested in learning more.    

Open Doors Invite Visitors…

The Guy in the Wheelchair…

As I’ve said before, I live in a poor neighborhood.  There is a lot of foot traffic and I think it is because some of these people just can’t afford cars.  There is this guy in a wheelchair and he has visited me several times before asking for money.  He was pacing almost frantically up and down the streets of my neighborhood stopping at various houses.  Today, I asked him just what he needed with the money.  I suspected beer.

“I just want to roll down to the convenience store and buy me some cigarettes,” he told me honestly.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” I asked. “I’ve got some cigarettes and can help you with that problem.”

Dad would just die as he pays for my cigarettes and they are expensive.  I gave the fellow two packs of Marlboro Reds and he immediately lit up not wasting any time.  You could visibly see his demeanor change right in front of my eyes as he began to relax.

“How did you get to be paralyzed if you don’t mind me asking you sir?” I asked.

“Bad motorcycle accident,” he replied. “A car hit me.”

I live in a very interesting neighborhood it seems.  It keeps Maggie busy guarding the house.  Honestly?  I felt terrible for giving those cigarettes away.  I just can’t afford it and it may make a big difference at the end of the week when I will run low on smokes.   I only get a carton a week.  Things like this just pique my social anxieties as well.  I don’t want to fool with strange people at my front door.  I abhor solicitations like that. It is imposing and rude in my mind. I would never, ever do it personally.

A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed!

“I am fixin’ to hit the bed,” George told me after stopping by for a moment after work.  He yawned loudly stretching his arms in the process.

“Here!” he said, handing me a bag of Sprites and some candy bars.  “I didn’t think you would want any caffeine after yesterday’s attack.”

“Thank you!” I told him with the utmost of sincerity.

“What are you feeling today?” he asked.

“Just scared,” I replied. “Just scared those attacks will start back.  I am so nervous and it feeds upon itself.”

“Well, don’t you have some medications to take?”

“I have my clonazepam,” I replied. “My psychiatrist prescribes twenty extra per month for emergencies on top of the two I take nightly.”

“Take them then!” George exclaimed.  “Get to feeling better.  I hate it when you get like this.   You’re such a stick in the mud!”

“Dad has them and I can’t bother him at work.  He will get angry.  They are effectively useless to me.  He will say I just want to get ‘high.’  I guess he believes I have cried wolf too many times.”

“I still want to give your father a good ass kicking sometimes,” George replied in a huff.  “Someone needs to bring him down a notch.  Doesn’t he realize you are completely dependent upon him?”

I shrugged, not wanting to get into a ‘let’s degrade my father session’ that can happen sometimes between George and I.

“Call me if you need a drink, okay?” George said. “We will get drunk and I will call into work.  I bet that will make you forget about your mental illness for a few hours.”

“It certainly would,” I said, shrugging again. “You need to sleep, though.”

I didn’t tell George it would make my life ten times more complicated this morning.  I would have to worry about sobering up for dad tonight.  Hiding the smell on my breath.  Discarding of all the cans in a way they wouldn’t be detected or found.   Worrying about George getting home and going through the whole process of hiding his keys from him. 

Just then, Maggie jumped up into George’s lap without warning.  I died laughing.  The first time I had laughed in days.  George spilt the Coca-Cola he was drinking all over my lounge chair.

“Goddamnit, that dawg does that every time!”

George was holding up his arms as if Maggie couldn’t be touched.  I had the biggest grin on my face.  Maggie will only jump into the laps of a selected few people including mom. 

“She just loves you, man,” I said. “She trusts you.  It’s a good thing.”

George pushed Maggie off into the floor and got up to clean up the mess him and Maggie had made.

“Don’t forget to call me if you need me,” George told me as he was leaving to go home to sleep.

I was still smiling ear to ear, but I mumbled something incoherently and said goodbye.  I won’t lie and say I didn’t want to throw caution to the wind and get rip roaring drunk.   I would have been so nice, yet so damned complicated at the same time.   The better Angels of my nature prevailed.      

A Mercuric Matter…

This is just a little short blurb.  I was on a dog owner’s forum this morning.  I wrote about giving Maggie tuna for breakfast and how happy it made her.   A curmudgeon wrote back that I should be worried about giving dogs tuna due to the high mercury content of canned fish.   Excuse me?  Mercury in tuna?  Shouldn’t we be more worried about the human aspects?  I seriously doubt the FDA would allow high mercuric content canned fish to be sold in the US.  It reminded me of that myth that vaccines were causing autism.  It is the same paranoid mindset.  I should know. 

I’ve Got the Vapors…

Dad called at eight.  “Remember you’ve got your shot this morning,” he said. “I’ll see you at the store at nine.”

“Dad, I can’t make it,”  I said sounding weak. “I’ve got the vapors.”

“Just WTF is the vapors?” he asked aggravated. “You’ve got to get your shot. I’m sending Tim to pick you up.”

“GOTCHA!!!!” I exclaimed. “I was just pulling your leg.”

Dad and I both laughed and laughed.

“You really had me going,” he said. “You are a card sometimes.”

Daily Musings…

I slept for nine hours last night.  I’ve had insomnia for weeks just sleeping a few hours at a time.  I look forward to feeling rested today.  Maggie slept with me for the full nine hours as well.  I guess she is in tune with me and my moods and was tired as well.  She is usually up when I am up. 

My breakfast this morning was stuffed cabbage with mashed potatoes.  It was a Lean Cuisine meal and it was exceptionally good.  Dad weighed me this morning and I weighed 178 pounds so I am gaining weight.  Our goal is 185.  Holding it at 185 is going to be hard though. 

Sneaky Mom…

Mom dropped her purse over at the house yesterday when she was giving me my fast food supper.  A bunch of stuff fell out including a prescription bottle.  I picked up the prescription bottle before she could protest and it was just full of Xanax.  Dad only allows mom 3 Xanax a night as she is like me and will abuse them.

“Where did you get these?” I asked. “You know dad would be livid.”

“I went to a different doctor and got another prescription for Xanax,” mom said. “My brother, Steve, fills them for me out at his pharmacy.”

I sighed, worried.  “No wonder you’ve been sounding drunk in the mornings when I call.”

“I can’t sleep!!!” mom protested.

What do I do?  Tell dad?  Cause a ruckus? Or just keep quiet and let mom sleep.  I am worried she will try to drive after taking many and get a DUI.

It Can Rain on Saturdays...

Well, Lord be, I hit a deer this morning in my Honda.  The damage is not that bad, but it scared the literal shit outta me when I hit it.  It all happened so fast.  I had to check my underwear when I got back to dads.  I hit it next to the old AM radio station near downtown and it knocked the deer 20 feet into the air.  Into a field nearby.   My car is still perfectly drivable, but it looks ugly.  And there is deer hair everywhere all over my car.  I hit the deer so hard that the contents of it's stomach came flying out and flew all over my windshield.  Thank God for well built Hondas.   I drove by the police station and got an SR-14 form to fill out for my insurance company.  Let's hope they cover it and don't give me a hassle like they normally do.  I hope you all are doing well today and enjoying your weekends. I'm fine.  No anxiety or panic attacks yet.  Thank goodness.

Let's think of the deer, too.  It was just a fawn or close to it. R.I.P.  My car can be fixed.  A life was lost. (I wrote this and then I strangely and amusingly thought, "You know? We eat dead animals everyday.  At least, most of us do.  I ate dead animal for breakfast in the form of bacon this morning.  Mmmmm venison!")