One Week Down, One To Go
2003-12-29, 9:55 a.m.
My grandma seems to be getting Alzheimer's, either that or she just has no memory for recent events. (To be honest, it's hard to tell, but she doesn't seem to be as badly off as my grandmother with dementia was yet; more like she's just ditzy and not paying attention to facts. Though I may be thinking blindly and optimistically because I don't want to deal with yet another person losing their mind, either.) Talking on the phone with her is frustrating because she asks you the same questions every time, about four times apiece.
Last night, I decided to have fun with it. She asked me four times what my favorite gift was; I gave four different answers. I told her about how my aunt and uncle are assholes just like I did on Christmas Day, and enjoyed her rage on my behalf once again. Hell, it actually got us into an actual conversation, not just the requisite "so how's your life" questions. It was fun to talk to her for a change and not feel like I could be holding up a tape recorder to speak for me.
The week with my parents actually went well. There was no fighting until (as usual) my last day there, when Mom and I got into a big fight about The Only Right And Proper Very Precise Way To Fold A Towel, and while we're at it, The Importance Of Letting The Bath Mat Breathe, Like It Actually Has Lungs Or Something. Which led into the Do You Just Like To Come Home Because You Don't Have To Do Chores argument (and boy, is that assumption so not true), and finally into the Why Do You Always Start Picking Fights With Me On The Day I Leave, which finally led to a truce. Phew.
Of course, there was plenty of crying and "I wish I didn't have to take you back," and "I wish you could stay longer," and "When are you coming back next?" Mom got pretty pissy when I wouldn't set a date right off the bat, actually. I'm very justified in lying to them that I was going back to work today, because if they knew I had today off I think they would have started insisting that I stay just a little bit longer.
I do feel torn apart all the time. Hell, I feel guilty if I'm not traveling to one place or another on a weekend. It is tiring to be going to one place or another every single weekend for months on end, and I suspect that on Sundays I'm generally in an ass mood because I know I have to spend hours on the road and have those crushing parting scenes.
Anyway, it kinda feels like shift #1 just ended and shift #2 begins. I'm not leaving to go to Dave's until after 3 this afternoon because I had to worry about (a) repacking my shit to go to his place for a week- i.e. find clothes that I don't mind having smell like smoke and see how many books I can stuff in and fit presents into the suitcase, and (b) fixing up the place for when Hill comes over. Since I'm getting back late Sunday night and will probably be out Monday and Tuesday nights until she arrives, this is about my only time. At least I don't have to clean much because Heather did that, but I do have to put stuff up on the walls or She Will Comment.
For some insane reason I have developed insomnia the last two nights. Wouldn't it figure that on the days I can sleep in, suddenly I can't? So I repacked stuff until 1 a.m. (am mostly done, just have...to....figure...how...to....close...it! At least I get to leave some of that stuff at his house for ) and gave up trying to sleep at 7 a.m. and started putting up all my old posters. I am mostly done with this, or was until I ran out of tape. Crap. Now I have to leave the house before going to the station today, and it is fucking pouring rain and has been all night. Not looking forward to that. I am so sick of winter already and it's barely started. I keep daydreaming of Vegas heat.
It's going to be hell. I'm going to have to walk to the station in pouring rain, dragging a large suitcase and hauling my laptop bag on my back. Let's just hope I don't slip and fall with all of that. I hate having to bring a large suitcase on the train and bus because it means I HAVE to check my baggage, something I try to avoid doing at all costs because I'm such an absentminded dingbat that I'm highly likely to forget that I brought anything if it's not in my hands at every second. But let's face it, I can't pack a week's worth of clothes in any of my other bags. Not gonna happen.
Most routes from my town to his involve taking two transferring busses and then the train. There is one route that you can take the train out of Sacramento instead of Stockton on, and I'm insisting on taking that one even if I don't arrive until 6. The less time on the bus with checked luggage, the better, IMO. Dave wanted me to arrive earlier, but I really just don't want to be waiting slowly for the bus driver to give me my stuff and wait for long periods of time in the rain for the other connections to show up, either. I know he's having his friends come pick me up, and I'm rather uneasy about that. My suitcase is big, and where are they going to stick it if 4-5-6 people are crammed in the car?
God, I should motivate myself to put on my five layers of raingear and go outside already. It's a nice tropical 45 degrees out, doesn't look like it's going to clear up or get any warmer than that anytime soon according to weather.com, and I need to finish putting up stuff and closing the suitcase. Bleah.