I have a couple of themes tonight. People who worked hard to hurt me at work. Looking at houses and failing to keep my promise.
To Carl T. Margaret H. Catherine something who did the cars or whatever Gene Ethelyn Laurel S. Rosa, oh, and Gene's secretary whose name I gladly forget. Nah Nah Nah Nah! I'm retired and you're not! And if you are, well, not only am I doing very well, but you didn't succeed in ruining my life--Ha! Ha! Ha!--I paid for my son's private school and his way through college & he won a big scholarship too! I have two great exceptionally smart college-graduate kids. Are yours still drug addicts? Are you still crazy? Are you still scrunching yourself up to fit in? You'll never be comfortable...and I am. You sold your soul...for what!? Aren't you ashamed? Wouldn't you have liked to be free? Ever? Well, go sit in the bathroom and brood.
Next.. Houses. We saw four more yesterday; we loved two of them even though they weren't right for us, and two were just awful. Here's what I wrote to a friend, "After 58 years in the City, I'm looking forward to suburbia. I don't know how long we'll be able to live there but hopefully for the rest of our lives. I love gardening and living with trees and plants. Just looking at my plants is relaxing. The only thing Ifind daunting is the small size of the rooms in ranch houses. I cannot understand how such tiny rooms can equal say, 1200 square feet. My house is 1100 and you could fit theirs in mine and still have room to walk around. I've never been claustrophobic, but in those ranchers, I am." I found a few new houses just being built that sound good, but I suspect they're in a over-55 community which has both good and bad points. The goodest might be the price and the baddest might be the price too. I'm hoping we get to visit them this week. We have no time so I'll probably have to cancel my trip shopping with Theresa because the other days are doctors' appointments and then we're going up to NY for the St. Patty's Day weekend (for Harry's birthday.)
Just an aside..I was reading Cupcake Brown's book whose name I can't remember but as much as I liked it, I don't think I can read it. What she went through is so cruel it's too painful to read. Number one, our foster care system is all fucked up and I believe because she was an African-American child, people, including other African-Americans treated her worse than dirt. This country created a horrible legacy with slavery and on top of that, we don't care at all for children who aren't ours--and sometimes not them either. Even though they're defenseless and trusting, we just can't be bothered. And of course old people, disabled folks, and uninsured people are in the same boat, but the kids can't even grab an oar.
And lastly, how I failed people I loved. Jeanette...She was Brian's old girlfriend who had mental illness and I loved her. I promised her I'd always love her, if not in words, in my heart. And eventually, I had to give her up. I couldn't save her. I didn't know what to do and I was being destroyed. She's gone and I cry every time I think about her. She changed my life and broke my heart. It wasn't her fault; I just didn't have enough to give and I'll always regret it. And I'll always love her.
Sammy. My dog. When he came to me, he was suspicious and angry. He growled when he was hungry. It took years and patience for him to know I loved him and would never let anything hurt him. He would always be with me. He opened his heart and loved me back. Harry tolerated Sammy and helped me with him. Sammy couldn't stop being terrified I'd never return when I walked out the door. He drooled puddles in the vestibule and in the living room. He pooped in the basement and sometimes in the living room too. Sometimes the living room was filled with torn newspapers or other things he'd shredded. Little rugs we bought him to chew when we were out, bones--hundreds of bones. Paxil didn't calm him. Nothing did. When he chewed all the upholstery from my mother's chair, I gave up. He was adopted by people four days after the Golden Retriever Rescue made him available. Sammy was sad and I know, I was sad too. I know Jeanette is a person and Sammy is a dog, but I failed them both. I understand most people would say I couldn't do more, but I wanted to.