Were to start? There doesn't seem to be a beginning, middle and end these days. Just a bunch of blobs floating around that seem to represent my life. Ever changing shape shifters.
As my prior post mentioned, the Guru and the Princess came, saw, spent money, and left NYC on a bad note. The Guru disagreed with my thoughts on the trip, saying that I had "misjudged" the princess. She was just a little "hesitant" about the "unknown" but it was like a roller coaster ride; she always loved it at the end. Myself and MD are in agreement that we never saw her reach the other side. Just the fear and pessimisom of the ride up. My relationship with the Guru is an ever evolving work in progress. There are times I whish he'd be less "guru" and more "dad". I'm not sure he knows the diffrence.
If you follow Synge's blog at all, you'll surely have head the sad news about her mother. The unexpected nature of all of this hit me pretty hard. The idea that you could walk into the hospital with a headache and leave with a brain tumor is a terrifying prospect. It makes me want to run out and get a full body scan just in case. At least I should probably start with a mamogram, which I have been putting off for sometime. I talked to Synge today, who is without a doubt the rock and glue of that family. She's amazing.
Demolition Derby Continues
On a lighter note, the saga of my ever evolving bathroom continues. Around the time of the Guru and Princess's visit to NYC, I had asked the Singing Landlord to replace my disgusting, peeling, dirty, sorry excuse for a bathtub with something....better. I was tired of standing in rubble and peeling paint to shower and had a feeling it was only a matter of time before the plumming blew up in golden shower of dirty water. The Singing Landlord said "sure, no problem. One week." In contractor talk, everything is a week. Remodeling your home is "one week." Did you ever see the "money pit" The house that fell down? I beleive construction time was "one week."
That was 3 weeks ago. The other weekend I was told that MD and I could move back in, only to walk in on....demolition durby. My deffinition of a "livable enviroment" and the Singing Landlord's are evidently very diffrent. In pure SL2000 style I had a melt down reminiciant of a Judy Garland without her pills. I guess I just wanted to go home. MD took a sobbing SL2000 back to the Upper West Side, which has been my home for the past 3 weeks. Another week of demolition derby continued, but this time I had MD lay the pressure on the Sing Landlord the way only another "dude" can. By Sunday it was ready to clean, which I did all day. It took 4 mopings and some hands and knees scrubing to get that bastard clean. That doesn't include the kitchen, which is full of white drywall dust, and the living room, which has giant boot prints all over the floor from the Sing Landlord's boots. There are times when I wonder if he has any concept of dirt at all. I imagine he must eat and breath dry wall dust to the point were it's all just "air" to him.
This weekend I endevor to finish cleaning the Brooklyn digs, though it appears I've over booked myself 3 times over a few times, so it will have to be done rather quickly on Saturday. My dream of all dreams is to just move back in with MD and be settled in one place....once and for all. At least til we move again in the fall.
Oh, and did I mention I'm planning on quiting the SDJ in July? I just sent in a request to take 2 weeks vaction in July...then I'm going to come back and quit. It will be beautiful. Yet the beginning of another transition.
Sometimes it feels as though transition is the new theme of my life....because there I am..floating around in space, wondering if I will ever feel soild ground again.