The State of the Universe
I haven’t been blogging much lately. When I think that I might have time to type something out, I am always pulled away. My family is always moving and needing and reaching and I am doing my best to be there for them. I enjoy their company, don’t get me wrong, but it is rare that I am allowed time alone. I sometimes fake needing to poo so that I can have a few minutes to myself without anyone talking to me. That’s right, I fake potty breaks. What?
It seems like a lot is going on, but it is mostly happening to other people. Today, for instance, I will be taking my youngest brother-in-law to the dentist to get a crown fixed. He isn’t particularly trust-worthy, so I am going to give them the cash myself so that the tooth is paid for and he doesn’t just bail with nearly two hundred in cash and too much free time. Young men with more semen than sense should never have too much free time and expendable cash. The end of that scenario is always a middle of the night phone call and some lame-ass excuse that usually just pisses someone (me) off.
The economy, gas, the state of the Universe, whatever, has resulted in the sad realization that I won’t be getting out any time, soon. I think about what the next few weeks, and months will be like and I freeze. No money. No time. No freedom. Goodbye sanity.
On top of everything else, I had to accept that we just can’t afford for me to smoke. No matter how much I think that I need to crutch (vice) to get me through all of this stupidity our family is putting us through, we can not afford it.
So I quit. Again.
So. Sad.
Now I can’t have a cig or a drink or hot anonymous sex or too many desserts. I can’t have anything except the occasional intense hand-holding session while we listen to our daughter talk herself to sleep.
At least my sister-in-law isn’t pregnant. And Wayne is dead.
It seems like a lot is going on, but it is mostly happening to other people. Today, for instance, I will be taking my youngest brother-in-law to the dentist to get a crown fixed. He isn’t particularly trust-worthy, so I am going to give them the cash myself so that the tooth is paid for and he doesn’t just bail with nearly two hundred in cash and too much free time. Young men with more semen than sense should never have too much free time and expendable cash. The end of that scenario is always a middle of the night phone call and some lame-ass excuse that usually just pisses someone (me) off.
The economy, gas, the state of the Universe, whatever, has resulted in the sad realization that I won’t be getting out any time, soon. I think about what the next few weeks, and months will be like and I freeze. No money. No time. No freedom. Goodbye sanity.
On top of everything else, I had to accept that we just can’t afford for me to smoke. No matter how much I think that I need to crutch (vice) to get me through all of this stupidity our family is putting us through, we can not afford it.
So I quit. Again.
So. Sad.
Now I can’t have a cig or a drink or hot anonymous sex or too many desserts. I can’t have anything except the occasional intense hand-holding session while we listen to our daughter talk herself to sleep.
At least my sister-in-law isn’t pregnant. And Wayne is dead.
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