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waiting for the swan song
"Think of how you feel right now and then make it your mission to empty out all the zoos when this is over."
I've been coming and going, not with disregard, but with purpose. I suppose I feel that my life is such shit that if I do get sick and die, it might be a blessing. Yes, that sounds very dramatic and whiny americano, but it's honest.
But I am cautious, careful, practicing social distancing (more than anyone else in this town), wearing gloves (when I can find them) and a mask and sanatizing my mail and anything else that comes in the house. Wiping down the groceries before I open them. Paranoid much? So, I do care about getting sick and dying I guess. But I have to keep moving on.
Literally. Getting the last rental car on Monday. A minivan. The uhaul boxes are supposed to be picked up on Monday as well. You wouldn't believe the amount of things I am being forced to leave behind because my husband's mental illness is at it's breaking point. Which means mine is too. He can't be here one more week. He can barely be here one more day. I wasted hours yesterday arguing with him to let me have this weekend to finish packing the last of my shit. Why does he have to do this?
I have a horrible fear that we will get to Denver and the landlord will have changed the locks and re-rented the apartment. It's happening to people in the cities. They are calling it a "rent crisis", where landlords that know a place isn't occupied yet, but paid for and rented, are double renting and screwing people out of places to live. I hope that's not a national trend. I don't know what's wrong with Minnesota. The people here are pretty evil. So, I hope when we get there in the middle of the night in a rented minivan with a cat after driving 14 hours straight (which is how I got back to MN) the keys will work at the apartment and I can curl up in a ball on the hardwood and sleep for a month.
My husband is (once again) staying at a local hotel, Big K is totally avoiding me ever since the drug incident, the neighbors won't stop with their bullshit (pulling wood off our garage to burn now!). The other neighbor got a puppy. Great, now TWO dogs she will NEVER take for walks. Let it all go. It won't be my problem much longer.
Time to move on.
Been streaming new music. Billy Strings, Pokey LaFarge, Four Fists, Aesop Rock....a weird mix of bluegrass, folk/ swing, hip hop and rap. It tunes everyone out. It helps me focus on something nice.
I can't wait to be out of here. Everything here is a surreal nightmare. I want to get to a safer place. A quieter place. And write it all down so you all will know wtf has gone on here. No one believes me anyway, might as well fictionalize it slightly and call it a book.
I really want someone to tell me that I am doing the right thing not having my husband hauled away by the cops to be thrown into a mental ward, not even allowed to smoke. I want someone on the other side of the mental illness authority wall to say that I am doing what is best. Even though it's really hard on me, it is the best. Would someone please tell me that, even if it's a lie? It would just be nice to hear.
12:10 PM - Saturday, Apr. 25, 2020
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