Guess Who’s Back

It’s me.

I’ve been in the same clothes since I left my house on Saturday.
It’s Monday (I think) we are in the perilous early days of January where every day seems to go on for decades and time gets slippy. Plus the plague kinda made bathing optional for us who were so inclined to lose track of time and cleanliness.
(I have showered since I started writing this, self shaming does wonders for motivation)

Those of us with isolation issues, executive function disorder and depression have had a really fun, sexy time.
I don’t think that it helps that after 2 years of having escape plans (and actually escaping) and places to go, people to see. I have none of those things.

No dangling carrots. Transcendent or otherwise.

No countdowns til…anything really.

I have job interviews sometime next week, I have to move sometime around August, I think I have a date this weekend. But no big trips or anything, not in the foreseeable future.

I don’t even really have a way of keeping track of anything from the time called before anymore either.
Facebook is still gone, never to return. I learned to live without my memories, but I miss them. Instagram got taken away in the fall sometime. I tried to fight it but there is a glitch I can’t get around.
I do have the blog, and snapchat says 2 years ago today I was getting settled in on the ferry leaving Newfoundland.

I remember that drive, blizzard after blizzard, crawling the last 2 hours behind a dude in an old pick up doing 60km an hour. We made it. The ferry was terrible, some guy puked near my chair, I slept on the floor and some other dude touched me (accidentally) in my sleep and gave me the major wiggins. I got wicked sick on the car ride home and moved into the room of blue rubbermaids.

So began 2 years of attic living, Covid and traveling regardless.
I was in New York, Texas, Arizona, Florida and spent a happy winter in Mexico avoiding the Ontario cold.

Speaking of cold…

Things with Wolf are…done I guess is the right way to put it. He decided to exit very slowly stage left. Now sends obligatory holiday emails. It’s gross.
I don’t even know how to respond.

In other equally depressing news…

I am currently working 2.5 hours away from home after being in Newfoundland for a few months. Newfoundland deserves a few posts of its own. They will come.

My new routine is leave Wednesday morning, work work work work work, home Sunday morning. Get ready to leave on Tuesday then lather, rinse, repeat. I hate it. I hate being away from home. I thought I was going to like it. I don’t. My work wife left me and we started closing early because of restrictions, again.

I had time off over the holidays to be home, and yet, here I sit. At kiddo’s house, also 2.5 hours away from home. He finally got a vacation and I am cat sitting. But I feel like the entirety of December I have just been pulled to places I don’t want to be and it isn’t over yet. But I can see a light, it’s called Thursday.

After wanting to be anywhere but there for the last couple years. I miss it. I renovated the living room and took it from brown leather bachelor to happy yellow Mexican bohemian, and I like it. I miss my plants and my stashed gummi bears and cheetos. I could buy more gummi bears and cheetos, but that would mean leaving the house in a town I am unfamiliar with, and I just don’t have the spoons. Not yet, maybe after my shower.

I tested positive for Covid on Christmas day, so I had an excuse for my sloth and hermit like behavior, now I just don’t want to leave. 

I feel like I am on hold, waiting to start my new life. 

This is not an entirely new feeling. In fact I am having mad deja vu.

Picture it, Hamilton 2017.

Piecing together my past, I was in Florida with Panda 4 years ago today. I got up and wrote from the balcony at a Disney Resort. There were giraffes, it was nice.

God, I miss theme parks.

I have a plan to migrate the blog over to Patreon. I have been neglecting my people over there something fierce. Been planning that for a long time now, not the neglect, the upkeep, the migration. Had 2 years of lockdown, 3 months in Mexico with nothing to do but swim and write, more months in Texas waiting on Wolf with nothing to do but swim and write. Hours upon hours in the girls house with nothing to do but shower, work and write. I didn’t do it then, I am going to try and do it now.

I miss writing every day. My laptop is broken, but it still works.
Me too really. I am broken but I still work.

I just scrolled through ye olde blog and I think my theory is somewhat correct.
I am reliving 2017. 

Oh look, another cosmic do over.

I love those.

I will inevitably find more similarities, but in the last couple weeks, I have…
applied for 2 of my old jobs back, with serious promotions and pay raises. I didn’t even apply really, so much as I was asked back. I am flattered. Jobs and boys always want me back.
Speaking of, Wolfling and Big Spoon resurfaced, I think one of them was 2017 (both actually, I checked).
The same 2 jobs I had before I ran off to Newfoundland in November of 2017. Maybe that will be the endgame, try to make it work here and end up back there. My magic 8 ball has been on the fritz for a long while now, so who knows.

2017 wasn’t a bad year, not exactly. It started out with me healing and dealing with the end of a long distance relationship with someone who pretended to be something they weren’t. Check. Way ahead of the game really. He dropped the ball and picked up a bottle last July.

Fucked someone who way way too young for me. Kinda check.
Maybe I am learning.

Realized that atrophy is the worst way to die, now trying to apply that to my life now where I am beating this dead stripping horse. Insanity is definitely doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results, and I really don’t want to be a stripper anymore.

And that about covers January.

In 2017 the “way too young boy” borrowed money and a book and never returned.

I got over it. I kept dating, successfully even, until it wasn’t. 

We moved in August 2017, that is already lining up to be true too.

And, I published my first book by the end of that year and went off to new adventures. This run around the sun I have that other book that has sat dormant because it’s written about someone who left me and I don’t know how to move forward, oh ya, this is a do-over.

AAAAAAAaaaaand just got the message that work is shut down for 3 weeks because of omicron, so, I guess I have time now.