Slip Slidin’ Away

I drank last night.

Not happy about it. Sullied my 42 days without my birthday as an excuse.

Now I get to clean the girl’s house and open the bar.

Not happy about that neither. I like opening the bar, but the $20 cab and smell of cleaning products, not so much. I don’t have a hangover per say, but I don’t feel so shit hot either.

But first. I write.

Seems like the bulk of Canada is experiencing a very fall like summer. We are no exception. I wore my winter coat to work last night. Not happy.

Roomie 2 read what I wrote yesterday, or maybe just the title and retaliated with a post that said ‘naysayer and proud of it’. I guess that’s that then. Not happy, but it is what it is.

Another acquaintance checked on me yesterday, which started out nice, then quickly descended into what happens with every male in my life when I mention Mister, which is more saying of the nay. I don’t know what is worse, actually I do…they think I am dumb and weak and possibly crazy. Underestimate me all you want. I’ve been through shit that would kill the average person. I am fine. Thanks.

Kidlet was off work sick for almost 2 months. They are holding his pay even though he has been back for a cycle. Not happy. He might get something next week and found a cash job in the meantime. He is definitely my child. Back him into a corner and he walks through walls.

Work sucked last night, no bones about it. 2 insanely drunk bachelor parties and a lot of “Sarah, I know it’s not your job but could you ________.”
I did the things. Around 1:30 I’d had enough and decided to join them instead of beating them.

Beating them was the reason I quit drinking in the first place. Fuck or fight, and I have not been getting laid sooooooo, that energy had to go somewhere. I had a lot of repressed rage as a child, it’s coming back around. It’s funny. Old behavior patterns come bubbling up to the surface when we aren’t paying attention.

I am slipping. I can feel it.

You know the nearer your destination the more you’re slip sliding away.

Goddammit Paul, you know that’s the absolute truth.

He was right. This last stretch is the fucking worst.  The first 41 days weren’t so shit hot either, but I am looking back at them fondly, like walking with cake. Day 99 got a bit easier, double digits being what they are. I cannot begin to imagine what he is going through right now.

19 to 24 more days. 127 down. I don’t know where I am going. My car still isn’t back, I haven’t booked anything because I don’t know the exact date, and I am a fucking planner. Might just have to wing this one. I planned everything before and look where it got me.

I kinda know where I’m going. A city I have never been to. Gotta go see about a man.

I looked at maps and air bnb’s. I know the ferry schedule. I know how long it takes to get from one side of this island to the other, it’s pretty much one highway all the way. But nothing definitive. Technically I should have anxiety about this, but I don’t. I have a dress with the tags still on, it’s red and easily removed, so I know what I am changing into once I hit the mainland.

I also know that the amount of money I have sent and am owed back is exactly what I need to get where I’m going. Funny how that works.

I was cuddling with my Haitian hoodoo mamabear last night at the bar. Before the drinking. I was close to crying and she knew it. The girls that have been around me for extended periods of time just know when I have storms inside, especially her. Because she wants to, she actually gives a shit about me. She loves Mister, known him for years. Brings me comfort to listen to her tell me how lovable he is and she likes listening to my stories about him. We know the same version of him and she says the idea of us together makes her happy, me too mama, me too. She was trying to get me to say that I love him. I don’t know yet. Which is a switch, I am always the one who knows someone/something/somewhere is going to be important before I know why. With him I didn’t. I called him a dumbass a few minutes after we met. He was pouring double screwdrivers on heartburn. I called him a dumbass and gave him some Tums. He came back the next day and said “take my number.” No question, just a statement.

He told me a few dates in, “I knew what you were before I knew your name”.
His third text “we’re going to be together a lot, might as well start now.” I didn’t believe him, but I also couldn’t argue with that. He has this matter of fact way about him. It’s ridiculously attractive.

So I just showed up.

Maybe that’s how this goes.

I just show up.