As a general warning, those of you who are sick of the blogosphere’s typical unadulterated flow of personal outcryings will probably want to stop reading my blog for the next…well for a while, anyway. With that out of the way, we now return to our regularly scheduled programming.
The last thing I wanted to do tonight was be awake. Unfortunately, I can’t sleep. Since I’m not one to drown out my sorrows with booze or drugs that leaves me with very little alternative except to be awake right now. I managed to sleep for a few hours, from about 9 o’clock or so ’til almost 2 in the morning, but I was really hoping not to rise before the sun today.
Last night, before I went to bed, Danica called the home line. She asked if it was okay if she would sleep here tonight. I told her that I couldn’t kick her out like that, so of course it was all right if she slept here tonight. She offered to sleep on the couch, instead of in the bed with me, which I gratefully accepted.
During the very short conversation, I told her that she has “two months” to find another place to stay. I really meant until the end of next month, but I was tired and my brain seems to have developed this nasty habit of generalizing things when I’m tired. She’s paid her February rent already, for instance, and I can’t very well just kick her out on the street. (Even though she’d end up at Randy’s instead of on the street, but whatever.) I told her that if she finds a place before the end of the month, I’ll refund some of her rent money this month. If she doesn’t, but she finds a place before the end of next month, I’ll refund some of her rent money that month.
I wish I were only being really nice, but the full truth is that I’m trying to provide incentive. As if the fact that the tension in the air isn’t enough incentive already. Or would be, if she were here.
Home Alone. Again.
I went online briefly before bed to delete junk mail and try to thank the kind people in #polyamory on UnderNet (the IRC polyamory chatroom) for helping me out the other day. Much of what they said provided either helpful reminders or wise insights. My router was acting up in a strange way, however, and wouldn’t easily connect to my laptop via Wi-Fi.
Expecting Danica to arrive home and probably want to check her email and the like, I wrote her a short note on a sheet of printing paper and laid it on her laptop. I’ll read it now:
Wi-Fi is finicky. If the Internet won’t work that way, use an ethernet cord. You can take the one from my laptop. Thank you for giving me my space tonight.
I sat looking at it for a few moments. I got up to munch on some nuts. I drank a bit of carrot juice. Then I came back and added to it on the opposite side:
Also, there is mixed fried meats from a Spanish restaurant in the ‘fridge. I will likely toss it, so feel free to enjoy it.
I held the pen in my hand. For some reason, I didn’t want to put it down. So, I continued writing:
I would like to ask some logistical questions, too, (e.g. electric bill), so if you leave before I awake, please leave a note letting me know when I can speak with you about these important things.
I considered signing, “Love,” but after a moment, I ended it with, “Thank you, —Meitar.” Then, I went to bed, and mercifully drifted off to sleep very quickly.
I awoke needing to pee. I got out of bed and peered into our living room. I didn’t see anything and everything seemed to have been placed where I left it. When I turned on the light, I saw that, indeed, everything was untouched and that Danica was not here.
I went to the bathroom, went back to bed, and tried to fall back asleep. However, despite not wanting to be awake and alone tonight, I eventually got out of bed and went online. Thankfully, I got an IM from a friend almost instantly, and I’ve been speaking with people since then. It’s not quite like being in the same room as somebody else, but at least, in effect, I’m not totally alone.
When I spoke with my father earlier today (er, yesterday), he mentioned that it might be wise to consider taking the medications for Bipolar Disorder again. I told my father that I did not plan on taking medications if I could help it. However, I do not know how bad this will be, and I am prepared to accept the help of a tool like medications to help myself get out of a rough spot should I need it.
I don’t want to be numbed. But, then again, maybe I do. Lithium can be like emotional morphine, and right now, I am wounded….