While I was completing my previous blog post, I called Mother to tell her about the daily mail. She then told me that she was coming home not this (Tuesday) morning but (I might as well say it) next (Wednesday) morning. So all this preparation, rush and stress to make things neat and tidy for my parents could be stretched over 48 hours. That's good news, right?
Initially I thought so. I was hoping that everything as it stood now would be acceptable. But with an extra day, I didn't have to worry so much about getting anything that could be in better shape into better shape. And suddenly I felt like I was behind on things to actually being ahead. The house was clean, and that's the most important thing. After the call I straightened out my room, stashed most of my mail and magazines out of plain view of My Fucking Father, and continued washing the laundry. The main thing I still need to do is go through as many papers as possible (which I could do seeing as I now have an extra night and afternoon) and take all the rest to storage. And now I could do that tomorrow instead of running around Monday night.
So after I tried plowing through a couple papers, I thought I was about to pass out, so I decided to take a nap. But after some tossing and turning, and possibly passing out for 15 minutes, I woke up a little more stressed than when I went to bed. Why? Because with an extra night I really, really want to entertain myself instead of preparing for them to come home. Specifically I want to see Big Hero 6, which is playing at the perfect time after I leave work. Then, at night, I want to hit My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition) and use a coupon for a free appetizer at a restaurant downtown before coming home and taking in some shuteye before getting up really early Wednesday morning. I really want to go out because it's My Last Night Of Freedom, and I'll be out and about anyway after I throw all my shit into storage.
But I realize that that I don't have a whole lot of time to clean up if I plan on doing all those things. After coming home from the movie I'll have probably an hour, maybe 90 minutes, to take up all the stuff I need to stash in my storage bin before the place closes at 9. And that doesn't take into account the phone call I have to make tomorrow to Mother, or the fact that I need to gas up both cars on Double Discount Tuesday, or that both my medications and the long underwear I ordered are now ready for pick-up.
So I go from having all the time in the world to having no time. Well, unless I decide not to go to the movie or the stripclub or the restaurant. But that would be no fun, and that'd also be a concession that I have to knuckle under my parents' thumbs, and I don't want to do that. Therefore I don't know what to do. I should do something. But if that's the case, why am I still writing this?
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