Today marks 19 years since I moved from Atlanta to Indianapolis. I’ve lived here longer than anywhere. I have more connections here than anywhere. Yet, there is this eternal, nagging feeling that this is not home. I constantly question whether I’m doing anyone any good by being here. Two weeks in, I knew I had made a horrible mistake, but I was contractually obligated at the time, and by the time that contract was over, I was too broke to move back. That condition has remained the same ever since, and now Atlanta’s changed so much that I can’t see myself returning there. I’m not sure there’s anywhere now where I’m going to feel at home.
There is no way today is a good day. The rain kept me in pain, tossing and turning all night. I’ve had the headache from hell all night but I can’t take more pain meds until after 7:00. I gave up and decided to sit at the desk a little after 4. The dogs started pawing at me around 4:30, but I tried putting them off until at least 6. When they paw, they scratch, and my skin is fragile enough that it bleeds. So, at 5:00 I finally relented and let them out. When we came in, as per routine, I fed them and the cats. If I don’t feed the cats they get loud. Apparently, that was a mistake. The dogs eating woke Kat up and now she’s pissed at me.
The rain will continue to fall all day. My body hasn’t liked rain for years because of the arthritis. In my current condition, all pain levels are elevated. I can’t sleep. Eating is difficult. Walking is difficult. Sitting isn’t comfortable. There’s nothing about this existence that’s going to feel good no matter what I do. I’ve shut the door to the Recovery Room and will do my best to stay away from other people so that I don’t ruin the day for everyone who has to put up with me.
19 years ago, I was contractually obligated to be in Indianapolis on this date. That meant I had to leave on Ben’s 10th birthday. There was a big party going on in his grandparent’s yard when I had to say goodbye. He seemed annoyed that I was interrupting his fun. After all, it was his birthday. There were more important things than Dad leaving, right?
I didn’t get to talk to him yesterday. I messaged him, left him a voicemail, but his life still has too many other things going on. I hear from Ben the least. I’m not sure where he’s working or what’s going on in his personal life. From his perspective, it probably doesn’t matter. It never has. Even when his mom and I first separated, I’d call in the evening and after a couple of weeks Ben told me, “Dad, you know you don’t have to call every night.”
What I did get was a very attractive picture of Gabe, my third in line. His hair is about the same length as mine now, only more full, like mine was when I was young. He turns 26 next week. My leaving hurt him the most. He didn’t understand that I wasn’t coming back for his birthday. The phone call I fielded that afternoon still hurts me today. I wasn’t there for my baby. I should have broken the fucking contract and gone back.
Now, I worry how much I’ll disappoint G and Tipper. I need to find someplace to live where someone can take of me without being stressed, if such a place exists. I’ll be leaving two more kids that I love. Maybe they’ll be like Ben and it won’t bother them that I’m gone, that I won’t be here in the morning or when they get home from school. After all, they have their own friends, do their own thing, spend a lot of time in their rooms on the phone or in games. If I’m lucky, they won’t miss me.
Groceries yesterday totalled a touch over $330 including a 44-pound bag of dog food that I struggled to wrangle into the house. One of the issues with having groceries delivered is that it is only right that the shopper be tipped. A 15% tip on yesterday’s order was just short of $45. I would have rather paid a friend to take me and walk with me as I did the shopping myself. It would have been more productive. 12 items were substituted out of a list of 30. That’s over 30%. I have trouble believing that the only substitute available for frozen french fries was “potato puffs.” When I ask for a frozen family meal, an individual meal is not an adequate substitute. Isn’t that just common sense? Apparently not.
Food items and their costs are only going to get worse. There’s nothing I can do to stop that. Earlier this morning I was reading that more companies are looking for ways to reduce the amount of cocoa in their products, including candy makers such as Mars and Hershey. Global warming and disease are to blame. Resources have diminished so dramatically that it is not sustainable for companies to continue using high-price ingredients even if they raise the price. They know that there’s a limit to how much people are willing to pay for a 2.5-ounce candy bar.
The problem isn’t just with cocoa, though. Last year, coffee prices took a huge jump after supplies ran dangerously low. That’s why you’re paying $6 for a six-ounce cup of your favorite brew. Part of the issue is that competitive alternatives, such as mushroom coffee, still contain bean coffee in some form. By the time you add in the cost of the additional processing, the alternatives cost more than the original, making them not so much of an alternative for anyone who’s on a budget, and who isn’t on a budget? More and more of the things we at are being affected by the weather and the result is we’re paying higher prices at the store.
Of course, it would be insensitive of me to not mention that at least we can get to food. There are still millions upon millions of people around the world for whom food is a pipe dream. They keep hoping for relief and each day their hopes are dashed. The problem isn’t so much a lack of food, but a lack of desire to solve the fucking problem. As I mentioned a couple of days ago, billionaires could eliminate hunger completely by 2030. They just have zero motivation to do so.
There is no sunshine today, only gray. This has taken long enough that I can take more pain meds now. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep. I’m not expecting anything to be any better later in the day, though. Why would it? Life is little more than a string of pain punctuated by disappointment.
Morning Update: 03/18/24
One could almost see the temperature falling yesterday. From 56 degrees when I woke up yesterday, to 32 when I went to bed last night, to 28 so far this morning, the chill has hit everyone’s bones to varying effects. When it gets cold all of a sudden, the dogs want to snuggle as close together as possible. They’ll have their bodies right up against mine to the point I almost don’t need any kind of cover. The cats, on the other hand, alternate between being curled up in a puddle and racing around the house making as much noise as possible. Unfortunately, they tend to choose the middle of the night to make the most noise.
There was one amusing moment yesterday when a poor little red squirrel happened to be in our tree when the dogs went out. The squirrel didn’t have a home in our tree. He didn’t want to stay there. He kept trying to come back down the trunk. But once the dogs saw him, Belvedere took point and Hamilton tried his best to climb the tree. The poor squirrel was stuck until I finally convinced the dogs to come back inside. I am constantly amazed at how the dogs’ hunting instincts come to the fore when faced with other animals. Domestication only goes so far.
I wanted to do a fair bit of writing yesterday but that was not to be. I got the first couple of pages done but then my brain gave out and I couldn’t get any serious cognition to return. I’m not sure I’ll have what it takes to get much done today, either. I woke up with my neck hurting and no small amount of nausea. I have meds for the nausea but the neck pain has to work itself out. Between that and the cold weather, keeping me out of bed doesn’t seem likely.
G is on spring break for the next two weeks. This could get interesting because when G gets bored he gets creative. A little bit of OCD kicks in and he starts cleaning and rearranging stuff. Fortunately, he has a talent for organizing things and does a great job of making things fit where you didn’t think they could go. So, what will he do in the next two weeks? I’m thinking that re-working the living room might be a prime target. Of course, there’s not much I can do but get in the way. I’ll retreat to the recovery room and let him do his thing.
Tipper grows all the more excited about Comic Con this weekend. Kat’s given her early birthday presents so that she has furry paws and furry feet to go with her costume. I’m still feeling a little nervous about the whole thing and am not above scoping out nearby coffee shops where I can hang out, “just in case.” While it’s easy to think of her as mature when it comes to her art and creativity, she’s still just a soon-to-be 14-year-old and I have an inherent distrust of people in any kind of crowd.
I’m not encouraged by the fact that the number of shootings went up across the nation this weekend. Eight were shot in DC, six in Jacksonville Beach, FL, and another seven here in Indy. This is a significant part of what fuels my distrust of crowds. Sure, most people are there having a good time but all it takes is one overly emotional idiot who gets their feelings hurt, and the next thing you know bodies are lying on the ground. One person who thinks that another has insulted them or done them wrong can inflict a large amount of damage in a short time in crowded atmospheres and they don’t care that the people being hurt are innocent. Making it worse, there seems to be no way to stop these types of events because everyone has a right to carry a gun and will do their best to find a way of doing so. I want Tipper and her friends to go and have fun, but it’s impossible to not worry.
I’m going to try to find a way to remove that big subscribe box that pops up as you scroll down the page. I know it’s a pain if you’re trying to read on your phone. Still, I would be so very pleased if you would subscribe. This helps me know that you’re at least aware of new posts without having to say anything on social media. Thank you.
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