Well, I've been moving stuff for three days. I've moved two car loads per day.
My legs are going numb and tingling. That's why I'm out here, typing, instead of sleeping like I should be. I'm in too much pain, and I'm afraid I'll wake her up. She doesn't know.
I mean, I told her I'm in pain, but she doesn't understand what that really means. And, given how much she's already worrying about details, I'm not going to tell her, either.
She's got a lot at work right now. She came home trashed tonight. She didn't even take time for lunch.
She didn't even say hi to me. She asked how long the trunk of her car had been open. Seems there's a light in it. I could have run down the battery. sigh
Then, we walked to Yasmine's to get some salads to go with the meat I'd cooked. The whole way, she kept worrying about my smoking. I'm down from twenty to forty cigarettes/day to between six and thirteen. That's because of the patches.
But she's worried I could have a heart attack, smoking with patches on.
We got to the restaurant and I said, "I can't do this; I can't be in public." I almost ran home. She couldn't keep up. I didn't want to be in there, a place where we've had such good times, feeling so lousy. I felt picked on.
She was still in "work" mode. I was in pain and wanting some comfort, but she wasn't able to do that.
She finally became herself just before she fell asleep. I only got a couple of seconds with her tonight. Even then, she was trouble shooting and problem solving details of this move. All I could say was, "you sweet talker, you." I petted her as she fell asleep.
I'm in SO much pain! And I've got to be at the new house at seven thirty in the morning, in case the gas company shows up. The car's already loaded with almost the last of the kitchen stuff, including my table.
I'm planning to spend the day washing up kitchen stuff and putting it all in the cabinets while I wait for the gas co. I brought my electric hot plate, so I can boil some water for cleaning.
She circumvented telling her sister she's moving in with me. Besides me, her sister is her greatest confidante. I don't feel good about this. I'm internalizing it as a sign she's ashamed or embarrassed to admit we're going to be living together. I don't want to be a source of seperation and distancing between them, either.
She's really scared. I'm trying to be patient. Last night, she asked me if I was using her to save me. My heart fell through my gut.
I managed to say that, if I were really a gold digger, I could certainly do better picking a "mark" with money. I tried to make light of it, but it did hurt. I know that's what she thinks her sister would say. And her coworkers, too.
I've kept myself alive all these years alone. Oh, once in awhile, some nice person will toss a little money my way, in an emergency. But, for the most part, I'd rather pick trash than take a hand out. I'd rather walk than get a "free" ride from someone who'll want their butt kissed for it.
I don't need her in order to survive. I'm doing that, thank you.
Fact is, us living together will save us both a good chunk of change. It's also a better living environment for me than this den. Having me to care for her is good for her, too; she neglects some things.
It just makes sense for us to be room mates. We'll collectively save about three hundred a month this way.
I'm not going to list all the practical reasons why this is a good idea. Not right now. I'm starting to feel sleepy, thank heavens.
Yeah, us living together could take some of the stress off of me: I can pay off that predatory loan; I have room to write and produce and garden and do art.
But I don't need "saving." What exactly do I need "saving" from, does she think? The concept confuses me.
I'm saving myself.
If she feels used this early, do I stand a chance? Will I have to justify every cigarette, action, event of my life to prove myself? Is she really just looking for an "out?" Buyer's regret? Cold feet?
Or, maybe she's just stressed out by all of it, as am I, plus she's had a really crappy day at work.
Well, the car's loaded, anyway. I certainly have enough to do tomorrow to keep me out of trouble. I hope I remember to pack a radio; all day in an empty house without human sound can be long.
I'm blinking a lot and my eyelids feel dry: signs I should sleep soon.
Can't think much more, anyway; I'm just too damned tired.
This pain and numbness is scary.
Wish I had someone to help me move...
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