Archive for October, 2010

Moving On…

For six months now, my landlord has been trying to sell this house where I live.  The owners moved out immediately after putting it on the market, so I’ve been left here alone to deal with all the lookey-loos and the agents and prospective buyers and the inspectors.  It’s been an endless process with most every week interrupted by yet another appointment for someone to invade my privacy and come look at my home.  I dread these intrusions!  Any minute now, I’ve got a slew of inspectors and agents coming in and all I can do is wait for them to leave.  Somehow, accommodating everyone became my role in this process.  I get a call, an announcement of the next walk-through and I’m just supposed to smile and agree, or as my dad would have said, grin and bear it.  I’m not very good at that.  Everyone can see my annoyance across my face.  It’s so bold, it’s nearly impossible to hide.  I hate you here!  I want you gone!  Don’t ever come back!  My mind screams these things at me in shrill volume.  And, while I continue to allow access to my home, and handle the hordes of people banging on my door, or even trying to open it with a key, the landlord lives offsite with her boyfriend, never having to deal with any of the issues of selling a home.  Somewhere along the line, my rent became something less than payment for a private home.  Come one, come all.  Press up to the window and see what animal you can see.  Bang on the door if you’re not instantly noticed and appeased.  For certainly there’s someone here who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait around for your next visit.  Besides, it’s been several days since I’ve cleaned up mud from the floor where it was tracked in by agents and buyers.  Today, with the inspectors, it’ll be much worse.  They’ll track mud into all corners and crannies.  All the work I did to get it cleaned up for the intrusion will be wiped out with the first few steps.  However, the good news is there wasn’t any mud to clean up – the bad news is I was stood up!  I waited a whole hour before calling the agent to learn that the buyer had made up a story so the inspection couldn’t be done.  If it’s not done, the house can’t be sold and it’s all an inconvenience of monumental proportions for naught.  If this sale falls through, I’m stepping up my plans to move away as soon as possible.  I do not intend to live in this grand central station much longer.  Gotta go.  It’s time to check Craigslist again.

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Memories in Autumn

I have flashbacks of the trip to the hospital.  I have no memory of three weeks, but I can remember that ride specifically.  I remember the smell, just after a rain, muddy and wet in the forest.  It was the smell of earth and dirt, woods and harvests, dead leaves and falling walnuts.  I remember the smell was pungent, lingering in my throat, almost as though I could taste it.  I remember the noise of an off-road motorcycle, whining through the trees.  Every time I hear that noise now, I’m transported in time.  I remember the color; it was autumn.  The photos in my mind during the autumn months are softened by the general lighting.  The intensity of the summer sunlight is muted, and browned.  I remember the grey of the road, the lane breakers coming at me, one by one, flashing along.  I remember the sight of horses in a corralled field, slowly foraging for food.  Everything looked surreal.  I remember the urgency and purpose of our trip seemed so extreme in comparison to the slowness of our surroundings.  I have no memory of the three weeks that follow, but I can recall the ride to the moment.  I’m told I was delirious that day and yet I have such vivid memories.  It’s strange to me what my mind retains and what it cuts loose.  What unimportant moments that are stuck in my brain, simply fodder for flashbacks.

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It used to be hard for me to remember to take one pill a day.  It wasn’t usual for me to take anything.  I was young and hardy.  Aging has side-effected my fate and I was little prepared for my eventual reality.  Now I take something for everything: something to keep my blood pressure from soaring, something to keep my cholesterol low enough, something to keep my moods stable, something to keep my estrogen pumping strong and, therefore, my moods stable, something for my bones, something for the direct sunlight that’s missing from my life, something to keep me going and that’s just the morning package.  I have trouble swallowing all these pills and keeping them down.  Some I must take before food, some with food and some after I’ve eaten and on an empty stomach.  Some of them can’t be taken together so they’re split between morning and night rituals.  And a ritual it is.  Everything laid out in order, with my glass of milk, juice, soda, anything but water, which makes the pill make me ill.  Some small pills I take by the handful, while the bigger pills are a single swallow, or, in the worst cases, broken in half to keep from choking.  And now I get why men don’t go to the doctor often.  What they don’t know can’t hurt them, right?  All they’re missing is the handfuls of daily pills, vitamins, minerals, medicines and more.  It saves on the expense, gag reflex, acid reflux and other side effects of taking the pills.

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