I figure everything we’re going through in our extended stay here is like intensive training for wherever we end up, an exercise in having nothing left to lose and not giving a [email protected]#. So we should be in good shape, come what may, eh?
It feels like a half-death, or maybe it’s a half-life? It takes a lot to make me cry, but I feel on the verge of it all the time now. At any rate, where there are flowers and beer, it can’t be entirely hopeless, right? Or is it like a wake?
I did finally get to finish mowing the lawn without disruption, so there’s that.
Thinking the coast was clear, I finally got out to mow the front lawn, when suddenly from nowhere, all the hillbillies showed up, set up their bleachers on the front step (smoking and spitting), and ignored the kids trampling my flower garden, right in front of me. (They throw all the rocks from my garden out in the lawn.) The whole vast backyard was available for them to play in, but no, it had to be right where I’m mowing.
At least the kids are still friendly to me, despite their mother constantly warning them about “those women”. I gave the little girl a rose. I had to put all my stuff away and go back in. I know it’s surrender, but I can’t function this way.
Living like this sucks, which is why we just want to go somewhere and have some privacy. I’ve never seen so many ignorant savages in one place. I know our final home won’t be perfect, but I promise I’ll try my best not to whine and bitch after we move. I’ll be too busy making up for lost time, soaking up the luxury of simply being able to grow things and maintain them, without hecklers in our face.
I did manage to rescue some flowers, plus ones E got me. All our vases are packed in boxes, but I’ve learned to improvise. It’s amazing what you can make do with on a daily basis. But it’s hard to live without basic dignity and security. Those should be human rights, but they’re not to be taken for granted. I’m experiencing what many people live like in this country, and it’s enlightening—and getting worse, with trump & co. in power.
Anyway, we’re still alive, so that’s something.
In tribute to our fallen heroes, all the nasty loud neighbors have been appropriating the outdoors to party into the night, while we hole up in our apartment, trying to lie low. But one day we’ll get our just deserts. Or maybe just some dessert.
While sneaking around outside this morning to get some supplies, I came upon my lovely yellow Oenothera (sundrops or primrose) blooming expansively. Notice I didn’t say “bigly”.
Our imaginary future garden is getting bigger all the time. We’ll have to control ourselves. But wherever the hell we end up, you better believe there will be extreme flowers, to make up for living in this landscape desert.
(See what I did there with desert puns? It’s just deserts here. Some dry humor.) OK, shutting up now. 😉
It’s hard to write when you’re speechless, which is how the world is leaving me. Between the unspeakable garbage of this sick admin, and previously mentioned setbacks closer to home, I’m at a loss for words.
So, just to be different, let me list some positive things. I know, totally out of character, but I used to take a lot for granted that many people can’t. Living here is teaching me not to ever do that, because you never know what can happen.
- My son is alive (also the Bobs), and I can still access my family in some form.
- I have a roof over my head, relative health, food to eat, utilities, and the internet.
- I have someone to live with who isn’t leaving or kicking me out (so far!).
- The tenants-from-hell haven’t burned the place down, or crosses on the lawn, yet.
- We still have hopes of getting out of this hellhole in the foreseeable future.
- We have a friend, who lets me weed his garden and play with cats, for mental therapy.
- I no longer have to slave my ass off for somebody and kill myself simply to survive/repeat.
Well, that’s all I have for now. Killing time sucks; I don’t recommend it. I try to make the most of what time I have left. My vestigial negative attitudes are a stubborn holdout, a work in progress. But I’m learning to be thankful for what I do have, which is more than many do.
<—-(cheap wine, better than none!)
We weathered another dangerous storm, including several tornados and damage in and around town. Tornado sirens were blaring all evening, extreme alerts kept coming in on our devices, and you could see the black cloud where it was touching down not far away. It went on for hours, with tornados impacting the whole area. It was pretty scary. I thought this was it, kiss our asses goodby. But we lived to see another day.
I’m still not used to living in a place like this, and never will be. Between the ignorant behavior, backwardness, and volatile weather, I will always feel out of place and alien. And now we’re stuck here for another half a year, and uncertain about our future. Looking back at these few years, it will not be the brightest period of my life, but perhaps illuminating… like a paradox. I’m not in a very good state of mind, in case it’s not obvious. But this too shall pass, or so they say.
Here’s the early morning sky clearing somewhat.
We tried to get out and explore a new (to us) park, Taylorsville MetroPark, along the Old National Road, Great Miami River, remnants of the Miami-Erie Canal, and the railroad. There’s a shelter house built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in 1936. We hiked for miles, and got exhausted. Not many flowers were in bloom, but the trees, rocks, and river were impressive. I’m still feeling very heavy-hearted, but working on it.