A contorted weekend

It’s an early start of a bright shiny new week, with me not having slept much last night because I snoozed almost all day Sunday. Awake last night almost every hour on the hour, I paid for sleeping in yesterday till 11:30, then taking a nap after breakfast that lasted from noon till 1:45.

Ah, well, the agonies of lying about on a weekend.

I’ve been reading Garrison Keillor, so my prose this morning may be high-falutin’ in an attempt to sound at least as erudite as he does. Fat chance, but still…

I went over to see Sherry Saturday night. I went on the weekend and at night in hopes of finding a time when we could visit for a while without interruptions. I seemed to have found that time. We talked and had a really good visit, although most of it was taken up with me trying to get her to see that I really DON’T have much money left after paying bills, buying food and gas. She only sees the big numbers and thinks I’m fibbing about the cash.

Well, it ain’t so. I kept trying to tell her I’m still living on the overage from when she was here and I was buying, buying, buying – groceries, medical supplies, sundries, and whatever she wanted. THAT was a large chunk of the budget, right there. So now I’m paying the price of always letting her have her way.

I suppose that’s one of the downfalls of husbands everywhere – just get her what she wants so there isn’t a battle. Or a war of attrition. Most women I know of tend to snipe at their husbands over a period of time, and if he puts his foot down at first, he’ll pay for it over the long haul. She’ll never forget, and never let him forget that she hasn’t forgotten his slight. It’s a cruel and awful way to live. I refused to live that way, and divorced her. When we got back together – although not married again – she’d pretty much stopped that sniping, but there were other ways she got at me. Why?

Probably basic unhappiness. I don’t know. Can’t be philosophical about it this morning. I don’t WANT to be philosophical about it. I’d rather rant and rave and dump on her for doing it, but I don’t want to work up that much of a sweat.

So we had a long chat, in the quiet. The other residents were still at dinner, so Sherry’s roommate, a 98-year-old screamer who curses a lot, wasn’t around. There were a lot of nice things said, even though the money part was slightly acrimonious. Plus, I had a chance to compliment her on her new exercise program, which she’s VERY proud of.

When the roommate came in, to be put to bed, the visit was over. Oh, well, we had almost three hours to ourselves. Not bad for one of the twice-a-month trips down there.

Since I took the truck to Laredo, a three-hour drive in the horrific heat of Labor Day, I’m no longer afraid of driving it at some speed. ThusI went down to the nursing home at a regular rate – 55 – instead of creeping along at 45. I was, of course, passed by everybody who was dead set on doing 70, but so what? I got there safe and sound, no deer splattered across my hood. Then home again, still no deer. That road’s long and winding and it takes some guts to go blasting through there at speed.

I live such a convoluted, complicated and contorted life. I mean, sleeping all day Sunday certainly counts as complicated, anyway. I did talk to both Jim and Sherry yesterday. I suppose that counts for something…oh, and I went for a long walk. Did four laps of the park. That means I got almost four miles in. I did that during the heat of the day: 85 degrees at 84% humidity. Got home and I was soaking in sweat. Took almost half an hour to cool off.

Last night, as you may read in the post below, was another dead verbiage time. Just couldn’t get into the word thing. I’m getting to a point where I have some concern – not worry, just concern – over my lack of words, but then I remind myself that I’m still going through some immense changes and I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. The words will come back, the book covers will get done, I’ll be into the whole writing thing again, just relax and let it flow.

This present ebb may be in direct response to the trauma of August. So I’m not beating myself up about it. That, alone, may be another form of growth – not tearing myself a new asshole every time I think about not writing. That’s because I KNOW I’ll write again, I KNOW I’ll be back in the saddle soon, and I’ll crank out another story without much angst.

…and I’m back with more Coffee.

Now I realize I can’t live on Coffee alone – I must have peanut butter. No, really, I can’t stay on coffee all year long. I have to break for tea ever so often. I did that during the heat of August – although not all that much, I just didn’t drink anything caffeinated during much of that period. Then I went to tea, hot in the morning, iced in the afternoon. That seemed to get me through the dog days. And they were definitely dog days. Crazy time. Sure am glad I’m through with them.

Okay, enough. I’ve milked the word cow as dry as I can this morning, and need to go slurp this second cup of java, then relax with a book or some music. It’s already 5 a.m., I’ve been at this since 4. That alone is a major accomplishment, for me to write for an hour. Well, and go get coffee.

The kitten is still biting my hand, with more power and sharper claws. It’s no longer just the playing it used to be, now she’s practicing for major fights. The back of my left hand looks like I stuck it in a Cuisinart. Or tried to stop a shotgun blast. It hurt like hell when I first got the wounds. I’m now trying to smack her in the nose when she starts biting. So far I’m doing pretty good. Last night, however, she nailed me pretty good on the right hand, so I picked her up and popped her a good one on the snout. She stood there, miffed, then stalked off in a fit of pique.

Later when I got up for a glass of water, she was curled on the floor under my desk chair, withholding herself from my bedside. I figured that was good, at least she knew I was pissed about her biting me.

Yet it wasn’t long before her tiny pecan-sized brain dismissed the snout-smack and she was back on the bed beside me. Although I do have to admit, she wasn’t biting or even playing like she was gonna bite. So we spent the rest of the night sleeping, peacefully.

I’m out of coffee, I’m out of words, I’m not gonna sit here and stare at the blank pages of the rest of this document.