seriously unmotivated

I understand why I reacted so strongly the other night with Zoe & D.  I don’t trust D.  Nothing she has actually done has given me reason to not trust her, and as a matter of fact, from all appearances, she is a good friend to Zoe.  She hasn’t stabbed her in the back, she hasn’t been a wild child and difficult to control at home, she hasn’t gotten into trouble at school.  But something about her eyes has always made me uncomfortable, and I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is that niggles at me.  She’s a beautiful girl, with cold, dead eyes, and when I see her I think she could be the girl who would never instigate trouble, but if a group was beating up someone, she’d be there, smiling and getting in a few good kicks.  Completely unjustified, but that’s how I feel.

When I called the fitness center and the front desk girl said that she hadn’t seen either girl, I just knew that D had convinced Zoe to go off with her to party, which is exactly something I would have done at her age.  My parents were so controlling and did not approve of any type of “fun”, that it became a habit to tell them I was going to see a movie and then go off to the gay bar for dancing and mischief.  So of course I think that Zoe is going to do the same thing, because that’s human nature, right?  No, that was my nature, when brought up by people who were afraid of the wind blowing.  I stressed to Zoe that while I may not always approve of her choices, I would always be available to come and get her, if she needs me.  No judgment if it’s underage drinking, smoking dope, whatever, I’m there.  Of course I don’t want her to ever do any of those things, and I’m not going to encourage her, but at the same time, I know I drove stoned more than once because I knew if I called home to tell them I was toasted, I would have been in huge trouble.  It was simpler, in my mind, to risk death and dismemberment.

I’m over the worst of the stress of that night, and I got an eight-hour block of sleep last night that really helped.  Today Zoe is off with J. (Brent’s daughter) to see AFI in Charlotte.  They left the house before 8 a.m. so they could stand for 12 hours to make certain they get in and get good seats.  “Rabid AFI fans, Mama.”  Okay, that’s weird.  I trust J. completely and so it’s not an issue for me, today.

I found out two days ago that Ani DiFranco was playing in Charlotte, last night.  No time for me to figure out who I could ask to go with me.  I would have taken Zoe, but because of her thing tonight I knew she wouldn’t be able to do it.  I’m feeling a little bit sorry for myself and a little bit sad that I couldn’t do something that I thought would be fun because I’m single.  Oh, I could have gone by myself, but that would have been too stressful and weird for me.  I need a companion for things like that.  I’ve been able to go out to dinner by myself, go to a movie by myself, go shopping, drive 12 hours, a bunch of other things, but a concert?  A musical or play?  I want company.  I don’t think there is anything wrong with that, except I miss out on some cool stuff.

I also have the same mindset when it comes to stuff around the house.  I’m good with cleaning, sweeping, dusting and all that jazz, but picking up and  organizing?  I want someone to do it with me, and most of the time when I want to work on the house, the kids are gone or involved in something.  And it’s the same with outside work, I want help, company and companionship when I rake the leaves or clean up yard trash.  Well, actually I want to bark out commands and have someone follow my orders.  “Rake here!”  “Pick up sticks there!”  “Scoop poop everywhere!”  Doing it on my own is so much less fun.

I want to clean out the garage today and neither kid is available to help.  I suppose I could get all six loads of my laundry done, spend some time reading and then shop and leave the outside for another weekend.  The problem is all my weekends fill up so fast and I feel like I have such a small window to get things done, before the heat and humidity descend upon us.   Thinking about what I want to do,  I’ve only been able to do is drink coffee, smoke and sweep the floors.  Oh, and load up the dishwasher, but I don’t count that because there are always dishes, always kitchen stuff to deal with.  The never-ending chore, kind of like cat boxes.  I’ll scoop and add litter and there’s a cat, waiting to befoul the whole thing moments after I’m done. No sense of accomplishment there.  I thought after cup of joe number 4 I’d been able to throw on some scruffy clothes and head outside.  Nope.  Let’s see what happens after cup number 5.  Oh, I know, massive urination.

I could also spend a couple hours shifting through music and CD’s, as well as organizing the bookcase and of dusting the entire house, but god, that’s so not fun.  At least with the garage cleaning I could be outside playing with dogs, or, rather, yelling at them to get out of my way, I’m sweeping here!  That and chasing mice, loads of fun.

Hey, I’ve successfully wasted forty minutes!  Go me!

Advertisement