9:52 P.M. - July 16, 2009
So my house is pretty much all renovated now. I haven't tackled the basement though. I don't know if I'm going to. The only thing down there is the laundry, a spare bedroom and a bunch of boxes. I started going through the boxes, but that stirred up a lot of memories. Some good, some not so good. So I'm doing it in short spurts. I mean that shit has been down there for so long, I don't even know what half of those boxes are. I have half a mind to throw every last one of them away, but then I think "what if I'm throwing away a memory of mom and dad" or "what if that box has really good memories in it". So there they stay until I decide to go through them all.
Granny asked me the other day if I'm still planning on moving. I've had so many plans about moving to various places. Last night as I lay in bed, not sleeping, I thought about it. In every single place that I wanted to move, I wondered why I wanted to move there. And I kept thinking to myself "there's nothing left for you there". So I guess at this point, the answer is no. Why go someplace else? The only reason I have left at this point is that I still hate the weather. But that's not much of a reason, is it?
My neighbor wants to fix me up with her brother. The possibility of that sort of excites me. And I think I'm finally ready. For a long time I wasn't altogether in my mind. But after paying a shrink through the nose, I finally got my shit together. Then mom got sick and I finally finished really truly growing up. After she died, I was numb. And just as I started to gain feeling again, dad got sick and I couldn't afford to feel again because this time I was caretaker all on my own and I had to keep calm at all times so I could do what needed to be done. Once dad died, I thought I would completely fall apart, having lost the very last person that I felt I could truly trust, the very last person I could truly love and the very last person who could truly love me back unconditionally. But an amazing thing happened. I didn't lose it. Sure, I did my fair share of grieving, but I didn't fall apart like I expected. And I am sure everyone else expected too. I held it together and have stayed sane through all of it. I am a little proud of myself.
So yeah...when she asked me if I would be interested, I said sure. It's time to open a new chapter in my life. My thinking is that even if we don't hit it off, no harm done. If we do hit it off, at the very least I will have gained a new friend...and goodness only knows what could happen then. But she said she has to figure out how to coordinate the whole thing. Apparently it's not cool to invite us both over for a beer at the same time, she's got to make it look good. But we both know what she's doing, so what's the point. I love that lady!
I do have to admit, with all of this change, it's finally starting to dawn on me that I keep coming home to an empty house. For awhile, I sort of didn't mind living alone. Didn't worry if my music was too loud, didn't worry if the temp in the house was okay for anyone else, didn't worry if I was gonna wake anyone up with my insomnia or if I was sick. But now it just seems sort of...BLAH. I fixed up my house and made it all pretty. I fixed up my fucked up head and made it all pretty. Now it's time to share them with someone else. If I have to get a cat to do that, then so be it. ROFLMAO