The house is officially for sale, now, the torment of the photos done, and all the work that it took to manage that over. Now it is the waiting – for the call that says load you and the dogs and get out so strangers can wander around. None have called yet but then it was a torrential downpour so…maybe next week. I was surprised to have no call thus far today. I do think there are drive-by’s – people slow down and look. I wonder if it perturbs them to see me at the table…
So I sit with a constant anxiety about having to launch. Every bit of the house constantly kept in a semblance of order. Of course, the dog fur is a constant so I have to continually wipe it up. Imagine living in your home but having to keep it like a museum relic. No smells of cookery, no thing that says You left out. No dishes left in a sink, or spots on your counter. For someone like me this is a trial. I am very private – I don’t want anyone here. And I am not a good housekeeper – I manage but I am not meticulous. This demands that I am meticulous constantly. And everytime you think you have everything in hand you see something that isn’t right and have to fix it. Like going into the master bath that you thought was all clean and finding he left it less than spotless. Thank goodness I took a shower and noted it. That too, a matter of timing – you have to take care of all your ablutions early and then remove evidence of same. It is a wonder people manage it. And it goes a long way to explain how some home photos are full of stuff and things. I have more mercy on them, now.
Still not a single job call, even the retail ones. They know, of course, that you don’t intend to stay any longer than it takes to get a better job so why waste time on training you. It is a blow to my ego to have had not a single inquiry, though. A friend might be able to get me lined up for a very good role that would allow for more growth than my old one. It is the one that I hope comes through but that won’t be until February. What until then?! How to manage it all? And there is the job in Wyoming that a part of me yearns for – a complete do-over, leaving behind everything familiar. No safety net. But that is a terrifying prospect, too.
So I sit here hours a day, looking for roles, customizing submissions, waiting to hear anything when I know that not a damned thing happens in Nov/Dec. How he thought this was a great time to put me in this position I have no idea. He is oblivious to the regular working world and how it functions. If he’d told me in June I might be all set. Or if he’d been able to keep his shit together through March. But now he intends to leave entirely mid-month and what then? Who to help me move my things if the impossible happens and I actually am able to go? How do people do this?! How did I do it before? I wish I could remember – there was a big house in Georgia and I moved across Atlanta to a different house. Did I hire someone? I don’t remember at all. I must have – there must have been a truck and assistance. I cannot think of any other way I managed it. But I was, of course, in the same state of mind and that is probably why it is a mystery – blocked out as a kind of self-preservation. The mind will do whatever it has to in order to ensure survival. But that intelligence would be nice right about now.
I think a lot about taking most of the stuff from the pod and selling it, loading bed and dresser, chair and lamp, and just sending it away. I ought to have sold most of my yarn – it was a ridiculous thing to consider keeping. Bag after bag of it. Had I only known and had enough time…but this is all forced on me and I don’t know what I could have done.
Now the weather, oh so very cold these last few days, looks to be ready to take the partly cloudy day and turn it dark and damp again. Maybe it will hold…and add to all the travail a dog who managed to cut a paw pad. Bad enough for the vet? I don’t know yet. I think it will be okay but…I can’t afford for it to not be okay. So I will wait and see if it heals a bit.
Everything just seems to be against me and I wonder why I am being pushed so…is fate trying to shove me to a decision, to a destination? I cannot manage more. I hope it all just stops and lets me breathe for a time. I know it won’t – it is a fruitless wish. But I am so very tired, now. All I want is to rest and get my mind right again. To be able to use it properly instead of this scattered coherence bordered at odd angles with so many stripes of fear.
How could he not know how terrible this would be and at least be willing to be present until I was safely off? What kind of man does that? I know it happens and much worse to many women. Imagine having children…but I was so certain he was something different and now…this utter abandonment to fate with only a roof as a parting gift…insane. Just insane to consider I was so wrong. I might have expected betrayal – all men are subject to it – but abandonment? Never. I wouldn’t do it to my worst enemy. But then I have seen the terrible side of life – the hopeless aspect. I could never do that to someone. I guess that is why I never expected it would be done to me. A failure of imagination.