One Week

More and more lately, I am seriously tempted to sell everything, grab “the family” and run off to some island in the middle of the Pacific. That’s where The Grateful Dad made a good choice.

The move is only a week away and nothing is packed. The house is just as it was before we decided to move with the exception of 5 empty boxes in the living room. Spliff is sick and has been in bed for 3 days and I can’t seem to get into the groove of packing up all my shit for the 47th time and moving into a new place.

I feel numb. I feel frustrated. I feel inadequate. But most of all, I feel perpetually off track. I filled out my application for Radiography school yesterday and I feel confident that I will get in, but I am not absolutely positive that it is what I want to do. It just seems like a solution to my constant search for purpose. At least for the moment.

My job is going alright. Not as perfectly as I had expected but it is definitely an improvement. Even with the lack of training or support from the higher ups. I constantly feel confused and like I am not doing a good enough job and am trying to learn everything that the other people have learned over their 30 years of doing the job, but I am being pressured to learn it in a month, with no training at all.

Mr. and Ms. Fat Thighs have been scarce, which is nice. They have been preparing for their move as well and have been, like always, caged up in their apartment. It is better for everyone that way, because I am quite positive that I could accidentally hit her repeatedly with my car if I see her outside.

I ran into the Psycho Rasta yesterday on my way back from picking up some Ginger Ale for Spliff. He was walking down the street a few blocks away from my house, looking confused. I drove by him, hiding my face and hoping that he wouldn’t notice me. He didn’t and I kept driving right on by. I was surprised to see him, even though I am sure he is living just a few blocks away. It had been a few months and the last time, I had tried to avoid his stare but had accidentally glanced in his direction, faked a smile and a nonchalant little wave, and ran out of the bar. That’s two ex sightings…all in one week. All the more reason to stay home.