And The Hits Just Keep On Comin'

Lovely service yesterday.  Just about teared up when I saw my family friend's friend walk down the aisle after the memorial was over with a tissue in her hand.

More people you love die as you get older.  I don't think I'll get numb to it.  Quite the opposite -- it'll hurt more and more.

And after I got back from the post-memorial dinner (ate a whole lot), I saw on Facebook that the father of a high school friend was killed in a car accident.  No!  I didn't know the father, and I haven't seen this friend since high school.  But the service is close by me.  In fact, it's where we had the service for one of my uncles.  It's in the evening, and I already broke out my suit for this service.  I think it's the right thing to do to go to this service too, just to support my old friend.  But I'm telling you, this is getting harder and harder to deal with.

The Last Fuckin' Thing I Need

I had two long conversations with my sister, one just tonight and one last night.  It's good to speak with my sister.  We don't talk often, but when we do, we talk for a long time.

With that said, I didn't like the news she gave me.  She's in touch with our uncle, with whom my parents stay when they're abroad.  My folks just returned from China yesterday/Sunday, and my uncle said my mother (his big sister) said that she was really complaining about her legs.  Maybe she's just complaining a lot, and even if it were serious, maybe she could just find some treatment over there.  But, remote as it is, my sister says there's a chance my parents will come home.  They planned on being gone four months, and they're coming back in one?!  Don't fucking ruin my plans like that.  Yeah, I guess I'm glad I haven't hauled out my shit from my storage unit (yet).  But I want to at some point, and now you're telling me there's a non-zero chance I won't be able to do that at all?  And that I won't have the run of the house to myself, and that I have to watch what I eat, and what I wear, and what I do?!  Gimme a fuckin' break!!!

You're Not Helping Your Case, Doc

I think I have blog posted before that sometimes my psychotherapist has texted me weirdly.  Most of the time they're a series of letters that make no sense.  Then, around the holidays he texted me pictures of the moon -- not bad, the pics were pretty, but I didn't ask for them.  He then left me a voicemail asking if he could talk.  He's never done that before and, frankly, I think it's inappropriate for a therapist to ask a patient to talk to him.

But he did earlier this week is yet another layer of what-the-fuckville.  He sent me a link to the Neptune Society, a cremation service company.  The hell???  Of course I didn't ask for this.  I have spoken to him about death a lot, but I don't ever raising the concept of cremation beyond telling him that my grandmother and uncle have both been cremated.  So why in the shit is he sending me a text about this?  Is he telling me something?  Does he want to talk about this?  Because I don't.  I have been thinking it's time to have a session with him again, but now that he sent me this strange link, I don't know if I want to now.  And if this is somehow a cry for help -- and there's a non-zero chance that is -- I am purposely ignoring him.  And, to be honest, if he gets depressed or even harms himself because I'm not speaking with him ... well, damn, I will not take responsibility.  Because this is some weird-ass fucking behavior, man.

I confess that I have fears that my parents are going to come home suddenly.  Not necessarily without telling me, like that bullshit years ago.  But my cousin is worried about her mother, who is my aunt, who recently fell.  My cousin thinks she's "the next to go," and that's kind of harsh to say, I think (then again, I don't know the details of my cousin's relationship with her mother).  But I have texted my cousin's brother -- also my cousin, of course -- lately and when I've asked about him and his mother/my aunt, he hasn't mentioned her.  My aunt seemed to be in good spirits and in a good mental frame of mind, but I do find him not saying anything about my aunt kind of suspicious.

And if for some reason my folks have to come home suddenly, I'll be caught with my pants down.  My stuff is literally everywhere, and I haven't really started to go through it.  Also, while I cleaned some of the dishes, I haven't cleaned them all.  And everything is dirty.  I remember back in March when I was told my uncle died, and Father said he was coming home from Las Vegas that night.  No way I could've done everything I should have done to tidy up the house, plus I was working at Target Center till the afternoon, so all I had time for was throwing all my crap back in storage.  I don't think I can do that again.

With that said, I think I will take a nap.

My Final Blog Post Of 2024 Is Another Reminder Of Why My Fucking Mother Has Ruined My Life

I was going to neatly tie up 2024 into a bow (well, as well as I can), but My Fucking Mother fucking had to send this shit off the rails with her goddamn anxieties again.

She bugs the fuck out of me while they're here, but it appears as though she bothers me even more when she's in Vegas.  I think that's due to expectations: Since they are so far away from me, I presume that we would talk less.  And I think we do; for example, even though I thought we would talk Christmas Day, we didn't, probably because we talked Christmas Eve.  And that's A-OK with me.

But when she texts me saying she needs help ... goddamn, the thing she needs help with is such a huge energy drain.  It literally takes hours to deal with her issue.  And it's an issue only she believes is an issue.  But I have to help her because that bitch acts so fucking helpless.

She texted me at work yesterday/Monday afternoon: "Need help!"  I get home and call her.  She tells me these real estate forms need to be filled out.  The government wants them, and she's scared as hell that, like, the FBI will arrest her if we don't do it before the end of the year ... even though the stuff she said told her that actually said she had a couple more weeks.  These forms are in English, of course, so she immediately ran to me, only to switch up her tone and just fuckin' saddle me with all this bullshit I need to deal with with an urgency only she has.  So fucking typical of her and her goddamn "issues."

These forms the government wants filled out I didn't even know existed until today.  And I had to waste two motherfucking hours with My Fucking Mother to do them online.  Worse than that, I screwed up one of the forms, and I'm not sure the website on which I did these forms took up the corrected information.  So I think I have to follow up today, some time after work, to see if some AI chatbot can let me know if the "government" has the correct information.  And who knows how long I'll have to fucking waste on that.  It's New Year's Eve, for fuck's sake.  I'm supposed to mark the death of the old year and say hello to the new one.  I don't want to spend it dealing with goddamn forms.

---

This year was bad because I lost my uncle.  I feel bad because I hadn't contacted him much before he died.  I think the last communication I had with him was wishing him a (Western) New Year via text.  He was gone within two months.  He didn't want anyone to talk to him in his decrepit state.  I don't care; I wanted to at least say goodbye to him and tell him I love him.  And I'll be honest (if I haven't stated this here in WAF already): I'm mad at him for not talking to me before he went.

Come to think of it, 2024 brought more signs my body is breaking down.  I saw someone for my knees after work yesterday/Monday.  She said it's probably arthritis, which everyone my age is going through.  Use exercises to get manage it.  I think I heard that before when my physical therapist told me to exercise my back.  I was given a referral for physical therapy for my knees, and there's a chance it's the same person who I met with five years ago.  I don't think the guy likes me, though, so I don't think I'll take up the referral.

Gaining weight, too.  I know I should eat better, but I'm still holding onto the delusion that I can eat what I want and not get too fat.  That's not happening, but I'm not changing my diet.  Oh, and I'm still dealing with trying to do my desk job with bifocals on.  Had a lot of trouble seeing with my eyeglasses in 2024.  My eyes got so strained looking at my computer screen that it began to hurt.  I even take them off and see my screen through blurry eyes.  It beats getting a headache.

Everything else, I guess, is the same, including dealing with My Fucking Mother.  Every fake emergency she makes me deal with reminds me that I got my anxious state of mind from her.  She has grafted every part of her insecurities onto me, and I cannot and will not forgive her for that.

Happy New Year!!!

I Don't Know If One Should Talk About Death While Watching Football

So at these Game-watching events I organize there is a guy who's been a part of us for the last couple years.  He's a really cool dude, and I love his passion for his alma mater (frankly, it's outshone a lot of ours this trying Year).

Last Saturday, while we were watching our Game, he kind of dropped a bomb on me.  He called me over to where he was sitting and, while the Game was going on, told me his father died.  It was overnight from another Game we watched together a few weeks prior.  That Game kicked off so late, and the place was so crowded, that we decided to call it quits at Halftime.  He lives with his parents, but his folks sleep in separate bedrooms because his dad snores heavily.  Well, in the morning my friend was going out the door.  His mother was up and noted to him that she couldn't hear his father snoring, but he wasn't out of the house, either.  So my friend checked up on his dad and, well. ...

That is completely sad, no doubt.  From that point on during the Game, I was worried for my friend, as well as his mom.  My parents are getting up there in age, and I have had more than one night where I was afraid that one of them would go to bed one night and not wake up.  And it is because of my inordinate fear of that happening, which only ratchets up every night they make it alive, where I have to admit that I was completely damn flummoxed as to why in the world he would tell me this then.

He wound up his story on a ... well, let's just say an upbeat note: The evening before he went out to see the Game with me, he was talking to his father about it, so that is the last memory he will ever have about his dad, and it's about the college team he loves so much.  It's great he can see it in that positive light, but I can't.  If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't ... well, frankly, I wouldn't even bring it up.  Which raises the weird prospect of not telling anyone about a death in your family.  I may have told two people outside the family about my uncle's death in March.  On the one hand, I do find it kind of weird to not tell people.  After all, we all have family who die.  On the other hand, is there ever a good time to announce such an important event?  I could see it when you're not where you're supposed to be, like at work or even a party.  But short of that, there doesn't seem to be much need to call attention to it, and that would include watching a football Game together.  And once the death happens, well, life happens, so when would there be a good time to bring it up?

I am now bringing this back to me when it shouldn't be.  It's about my friend, who, frankly, appears to be taking it well, even though, if I were in his shoes, I would be devastated since this death was so sudden.  He'll be back this Saturday, and I will ask him about his mom and him.  Again, it's an important but grim subject, so I'll try and console him as much as I can during a football Game.

I Did Something Yesterday That Still Terrifies Me

Goddamn my temper.

So I was driving to work yesterday/Monday.  Since I had my timing chain replaced, I've slowed down while driving -- for the most part.  But there was this van that got behind me, then changed to the lane to my left, then merged right in front of me.  Like, "Why are you gettin' that motherfucking close to me, you fucking asshole?!" close.  And I felt violated and attacked and as if my manhood was taken from me, and so I needed to take my manhood back.  So I went to the lane to our left, floored the gas pedal, and cranked my car back onto our lane and right in front of him.

But I didn't.  I did all of those things, but by the time I thought I was showing him up, he (and it had to be a he) moved one lane further to the right, and he was slowing down because he was getting onto the off ramp.  When I saw that I kind of dusted him but he was not in a position to see that I did, I stepped on the brake.  Hard.

I have had bouts of road rage like this before.  Rode my car hard many, many times -- accelerated to close to 100, then cut off the son-of-a-bitch who cut me off and slammed on the brake.  Afterwards, I always felt as though I may not have "succeeded" in showing who's boss, but I felt true to myself in taking back what was taken from me.  But not this time.  I'm not disappointed in myself.  But I am still shaking -- not exactly over what happened to me, but over what I did in response.  Yes, I've done this before.  And yet I can't believe I did this, or allowed myself to do this.

I'm getting older.  My uncle dying probably is weighing on me more than I am conscious of.  But I feel this sense of shame now because of what I put my car through.  It's getting older, and it's not as if I can afford to buy another one off the lot.  And I know that you hurt the car when you suddenly accelerate and suddenly brake.  And oh, by the way, I have new tires on it.  There's a breaking-in period of about 1,000 miles where you should go easy on them, and I sure as hell didn't yesterday morning.  Now, if my car is ruined after this one rush of blood to the head, then this model needs to be recalled for being a piece of shit.  But I can't let this happen again.  And I certainly can't allow this hard driving because of my road rage contribute to a pattern that will ultimately kill my car.

I am under no illusion that I will do what I have pledged to do in this blog post.  This prick (and by the way, the car that almost sideswiped me was a minivan from, I think, a company called Royal Transportation [there was a decal on this fucking vehicle], which I believe is a public assistance transportation company for those who cannot drive themselves, so I believe the driver was someone who was hastily trained in driving) could be riding my ass again this morning.  I am not absolving this piece of shit for what he did to me; I have never had someone merge in front of me so closely.  But that van's gone and I still have my car which I totally abused because this red mist descended in front of my eyes again.  People suck at driving, but I have to walk the line because getting revenge means I destroy the vessel that gives me mobility in this world.

Still have this aching suspicion that I've hurt this car past some irreversible point just because of what happened, though.  In the meantime, I think I will try and drive slowly -- and, Lord willing, let things go while I'm driving.  Just don't know if I will.

Finally Going To See My Aunt Today

For the first time since my uncle died, I finally am able to keep my promise and visit my aunt this afternoon.  I'm terrified.  I have no idea what's going to happen, nor what I am going to say.  Hell, I don't know how long I will stay.  I don't want to just stand by the door and chit-chat so quickly that I could just keep my car running.  At the same time, I know my awkward ass could draw out the agony by asking dumber and dumber questions and overstaying my welcome because I want to look "concerned."  I think I need to go to the library tomorrow afternoon, and I'm still figuring if I should go before or after seeing my aunt, which I'm supposed to see at a specific time.  Even fretting about that makes me feel like a colossal dick.

I don't know what I should wear.  I don't know how to behave.  I don't know if I should go in for a hug, for God's sake.  I don't want to be too forward that I invade her personal space, and yet I don't want to be so reserved that I come off as cold.  I don't want to pry if my aunt's feelings remain raw, but I don't want to sound so distant that she thinks I'm trying to leave early.

Oh, God.  I know I have to do this.  I just don't know how to do it.

Another Case Of Horrible, Horrible Timing

In importance it doesn't rise to the level of working on the day my uncle died.  But considering I have another scheduling conflict almost a month after that, I feel as though the universe is conspiring against me.

My alma mater's women's basketball team is in the NCAA Tournament.  They're doing good.  Real good.  Like, they're in the Sweet Sixteen and they have a chance to get to the Final Four.  If they make it that far, the National Semifinal will be on Friday and, Buddha help me, if they win that one, the title Game will be Sunday afternoon.  My alma mater hasn't won anything I could see on TV (I am glad they have won in water polo and beach volleyball, but I have never watched that), and so if the dream comes true, I'll be able to see it at my favorite downtown bar alongside my alumni friends.

However, and I am still mad at myself that this is yet another case where I don't put two and two together until it's too late ... well, I was watching another tournament Game on Sunday and ESPN brought up their schedule graphic, where they detail the dates of future rounds of The Big Dance.  The Final Four Games are next Friday, April 5.  The championship is set for the afternoon of Sunday, April 7.  And I realize, then and there, that I am taking a flight on Saturday, April 6 to get ready for the total eclipse.

Well, this is a shitty pickle, isn't it?  One once-in-a-lifetime event (I have talked about the total eclipse I was able to see in 2017, but this is supposed to last way longer, so I consider it to be its own once-in-a-lifetime event) had to be fucking happening at the same time as a possible once-in-a-lifetime event.  And I don't know what to do.  I am thinking, desperately, if I could do both -- namely host a championship Game-watching event in downtown Minneapolis in the afternoon, go directly to the airport for a late flight that night, get in, go to my hotel for a cat nap, then drive off to parts unknown to catch the eclipse.  But that is cutting it way too close.  Plus, I think I have reserved my reservations for my hotel and rental car so that I can't back out (need to check on those).

So the only other option, and I think I'm going to get my diploma rescinded for saying this, is to hope that my alma mater loses before the title Game.  Of course with every succeeding round in a tournament you are going to face tougher competition.  I don't think my squad's Regional Semifinal is going to pose much of a problem Saturday afternoon (by the way, our bar is the same bar Iowa St. goes to, and if they win their Regional Semifinal Thursday, it's very likely their Elite Eight Match will tip off shortly after ours), but they might lose in the Regional Final Monday, and there's going to be a hell of a matchup for the National Semifinal next Friday.  But, if they win those three tilts, and they have a better-than-fighting chance to do so ... well, either I stay true to my school, watch the title Game with my buddies and miss my flight, or make my flight and risk not seeing history being made with my fellow alums.

Goddamn ... any other year, any other year would be so much better than the clusterfuck I might have in my hands now.  If life is a series of conflicts like this, I just ...

Apparently, I Hurt Someone's Feelings And I Didn't Even Know It

So I've got a big to-do today/Saturday that's alumni-related.  I have been talking to a fellow alum who is part of the organization we're volunteering for.  It's been tough finding time to talk to him, but he is marketing this app with this organization, and we've been volunteering with that organization for a while, so I talked to him online.

And then we didn't talk.  I thought about speaking with him as our event was coming up, but I had work and then the jobs at Target Center and then my uncle died and then my parents came home ... just a bunch of shit rolled up on me, and so I thought to reconnoiter with him just before the event, or just about now.

So yesterday/Friday afternoon I see that he e-mailed me.  He talked about a bunch of stuff about his app and thanked me for helping him troubleshoot it.  But in the end of this long and involved message, he said something that has thrown me for a loop.  He said that I removed him from "the group," but he doesn't hold any animosity towards me.  And he hopes we can work together in the future.

I have no fucking idea what the hell he's talking about.  And if you can place yourself in my shoes, please understand the panic I instantly felt when this ... guy/fellow alum made this ... declaration/accusation out of the blue.  I expected to see this guy for a big meeting before our volunteering event is about to begin today, because he is supposed to make a speech touting this app for which he is shepherding.  I had been looking forward to seeing him.  Now, I can't afford to avoid seeing him.  And apparently, I hurt his feelings.

And I don't know how.  I don't know what "group" he is specifically talking about.  I have an e-mail group of alumni to which I sent out messages about events, such as this one.  I sent one out earlier this week, and I checked that his e-mail address was one I sent it to.  I sent another one, about a game-watching event I'm doing for women's basketball after our event, and I made sure he got that, too.  Is he talking about the e-mail list?  Because I simply can't believe I removed him.

But after sleeping on it, he might be talking about volunteering for the event itself.  One of the things we did while on the Zoom was fiddle around with the organization's reservation system.  He put his name in our group.  I thought he was just doing it to begin a troubleshooting exercise.  I swear he never said anything about actually wanting to volunteer with us.  Also, I swear that some time after our online meeting and I started putting names onto my list of reservations (which is something you're supposed to do for this organization), I did not see his name anymore.  I assumed he took himself off the list.  I know it's in my nature to leave things as they are.  Again, I was under the impression that he was just putting his name in there just because, but I would not remove his name unless I had other people who genuinely wanted to volunteer and I had no more spaces available.  At that point, I would have e-mailed and asked if he really wanted to volunteer with us, and if his name was just an exercise, whether it would be OK if I took his name off the reservation.

That, however, didn't happen.  Again, his name just disappeared, and I thought it disappeared because he deleted his own name.  But if this is the "group" he says I removed him from, I don't know how his name got deleted.  So I frantically replied to him about an hour after he apparently sent this e-mail, profusely apologizing for what I could have done wrong (even though I have done nothing wrong) and hoping we can iron out any differences or misinterpretations when we see each other this afternoon.  He hasn't answered back.

Well, fuck, this is going to be awkward as shit.  I need to hope to hell I get there early enough, and he gets there early enough, for us to talk about what did or didn't happen.  Otherwise, I am going to run into some guy who's mad at me for fuck knows why.  This is drama I don't need in my life, Lord. ...

No Anti-Picks, This Year And Maybe Ever

There are many reasons why I'm not doing them this Year and maybe never again.  I shall list them:

1. One of my places of employment frowns upon even the perception that I am gambling, and I really like this job, so I think I will demure as long as I am working for them;
2. My uncle's death has cast a pall on things;
3. I have been busy planning Game-watching events for my alma mater's women's basketball team;
4. I went to a MNUFC Friendly last/Wednesday night; otherwise I might have made time;
5. And my previous Anti-Picks haven't gone so well.

So there you go.  Sorry about that.  Although, maybe I'll change my mind.  Who knows?

Is Father Lonely?

Compounding the death of my uncle, I was told by Mother on Sunday, when Father was desperately coming home to see his younger brother before he passed, that Father fell in the middle of one night and got a gash on his head so bad that blood was gushing.  He had to go to the emergency room to stop the bleeding.  So she told me to watch him, just in case.

I am frickin' working like a dog, at my normal job the past workweek and then at Target Center for the basketball tournament this weekend, so me watching him consists of genuinely asking if he's OK and texting him in the middle of the day.  He seems fine.  I actually am more worried about his mind than his body, but both appear to be OK ... although he left the kitchen light on a couple hours ago.  I hope to Buddha he didn't slip and fall somewhere and I didn't hear it.  I'll go downstairs to make sure he's just in bed.

Mother is still in Las Vegas, so unless he has a more active lifestyle than I remember him having, Father is stuck in the house all day alone.  Realizing this, I have been thinking about him -- not just whether he's safe alone at home, but whether he's, you know, alone.  I am now wishing Mother was here with him.  I still remember them fighting like cats and dogs because they've been tied to the hip for nearly all their lives.  But right now, that feels like a better alternative than what Father probably is doing right now, which is being bored to death.  Hey, when you're married to each other for so long, each other's all you've got.

Thankfully (I think), Mother's coming home soon.  They can be with each other, keeping each other company, annoying the hell out of each other.  That will lessen my anxiety, for sure, and hopefully they will be safer once they'll be stuck at home together.

Aunt Is Doing ... OK? (I, However, May Be A Prick)

I will confess: Once I heard that my uncle had died, I harkened back to the time about six weeks ago, when my aunt dropped by the house and told me not to talk to him because he hadn't been feeling well, and if I asked him how he was doing, he was not going to tell me the truth.

I regret not talking to him to this day, and it will haunt me forever, just like I regret not ever visiting my friend who was convalescing out in Edina for months and who died after having surgery.  In the aftermath of knowing he had passed, I wondered about the conversation we had.  She's a little daft, and I didn't quite understand why she told me not to speak with him.  In fact, I had wondered if she had been hiding the full extent of the deterioration of his health.  If, for example, he had been in the hospital for a couple weeks and didn't tell me or the rest of the family, I would be very, very upset.  I had asked that if things went south with my father to let me know ASAP.  And a part of me, to be honest, didn't think she did.

But then I scrolled through my Google Voice messages Wednesday night and saw that my aunt did in fact leave a VM for me.  There were two reasons I didn't get it till now: 1) she called me overnight Saturday/Sunday, which was when I got back from the Big Ten Women's Basketball Tournament around 9, crawled into bed around 9:30, woke up around 5 or so, then immediately drove back to work at Target Center; and 2) how I set up Google Voice means I don't get voicemail through the phone.  Any messages left for me I need to go through my Mail app to get, and that's if I remember to hear them, and seeing as how I come across half a dozen messages from time to time, I don't remember a whole lot.

Anyway, she said that she needed to get ahold of Father ASAP because my uncle ... well, you know.  Eventually Father heard about his little brother -- not by me, of course -- so she was able to reach him like she wanted to.  But beyond not seeing him before he died, I really, really hate myself for not answering my aunt's VM when I should have.  And now that what's done is done, I didn't think reaching out to her now is the best idea.

Eventually, however, I had to -- not only to let my aunt know I did get her voicemail, and not only because contacting her is the right thing to do, but because my sister asked me to.  The shoe is now on the other foot; instead of me being mad at her, she now had every right to be mad at me.  I really didn't want to get yelled at, but it isn't grown-up of me to complete avoid her upon one of the worst moments in her life.

I really should visit her at their house.  I think a call would be in order.  But I had to buy pizza and get home last/Thursday night in time for dinner with Father.  I need to take some time talking with my aunt, and I couldn't do it if I was racing home.  But, I split the difference and texted her while I was at Target Center in the afternoon.  I didn't hear from her.  I thought it was either she was still in mourning and/or she was still pissed at me.  However, after I got home, I got a text from her saying she was fine.  And I noticed that she was liberally using the exclamation point.  Maybe it's nothing, but from the tone of her messages back to me, she didn't quite sound like she was depressed over losing her husband of over 40 years on Sunday.

I said I wanted to talk to her.  She gave a time of tomorrow at 2.  That doesn't work, for I am back at Target Center for the Big Ten Men's Basketball Tournament this weekend, and then I work in The Fourth Department all next week, and then Mother comes home Thursday night and I have to pick her up, and then there's that huge alumni thing Saturday afternoon ... and yet I said I will try for next week.  And that seems to be a "promise" I will have to push back to the following week.

You know, the more I write up how I'm dealing with my uncle's death, the more disappointed in myself I become.

I planned on going down to Bloomington to get my tires changed by a guy my parents know.  It was supposed to be this morning.  But this dude just fucking cancels on me.

This is the last free day I have for the next, oh, week and a half.  It's kind of why I took this day off.  (Well, I took this day off because my stripper girlfriend was supposed to come and clean the house, but don't tell Father.)  I have work through the weekend, then I'm in The Fourth Department all next week at work (and don't fucking get me started on that bullshit), then I have to pick up Mother from the airport, and I have this huge alumni thing the following weekend, and who knows if there will be a funeral for my uncle.  This was the fucking day.  And he fucked me.

Do my parents really know this guy?  Maybe Father can take the car down there for me.  Otherwise, I don't know why I can't just take my tires to the local shop and get them changed there next week.  I know they won't fucking cancel on me.  This is all bullshit. ...

Pilot Light Was Out

Should have suspected something when I washed dishes in lukewarm water.  But I tried to take a shower and I cranked up the handle and it was still cold, so I suspected something.

The fucking pilot light was out.  Thankfully, water heaters these days don't ask you to light up the end of a piece of paper and risk lighting yourself on fire.  But the first time the flame wasn't the I expected but an out-of-control orange, and it was making these hissing noises that made me think the goddamn thing was gonna blow.

Thankfully, I waited.  I see a gauge outside the water heater with a blinking light indicator.  It's been blinking blue all this time, which means it's operating normally.  And I just checked; the raging orange turned into a raging blue, and then it has become to solitary, humble blue light I remember seeing when the water heater is acting normal.  The hissing sound's gone, too; according to the only Internet site that hasn't tried to scare the fuck out of me, that hissing is coming from the condensation as the heater is trying to get itself up to optimal temperature.  Once it did, I think, the hissing stopped and the flame quieted down to what it now is.

Now, I can take a shower.  Hopefully before the house blows up.

After my uncle died, I don't think the family needs two more deaths the very next day.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

So my uncle did die yesterday.  At the tail end of the Game I was covering, in fact.  Don't want to get too deep in it now, but I now truly regret not saying goodbye to him when I had the chance.

For that reason, I will list the local teams for the screening Week, but I won't say anything about them.  It's been a day, and I just want to go to bed because I have work in the morning.  I probably will go back to the old format next Week, and I might even touch on some of the things that happened this past Week next Week.  I hope you understand.

#0: United FC (Last Week: -1).

#-1: Gopher softball (Last Week: -3).

#-2: Gopher men's hockey (Last Week: -5).

#-3: Gopher baseball (Last Week: -4).

#-4: Wild (Last Week: -7).

#-5: Timberwolves (Last Week: -2).

#-6: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -6).

#-7: Gopher women's hockey (Last Week: -8).

#-Infinity: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -9).

Got word from my cousin that my uncle is dying.  And I am working at the Game.  Such horrible timing.

I'm Ghosting My Uncle

So about a month ago, on a Saturday, I heard the doorbell ring.  I assume it's one of those, like, garbage company or roofing company people trying to sell us something, so like what we and many other people usually do when their privacy is invaded, I ignored the person, assuming he'll eventually go away.

He didn't.  And, he is a she.  And that she is my aunt.  After ringing, she knocked vigorously.  At this point I figure either it's a family member or this guy needed to bug out harshly, so I answered the door.  My aunt thrusted a bag of food in my hand, then barged into the house.  She's kind of a bitch when she wants to be; she invited herself in, then looked around and saw all my crap on the stairs and on the landing, and instead of immediately going into what she wanted to talk to me about, she took a beat and said, "Huh."  Not a fan of how I leave things around the house?  That ain't none of her goddamn business, is it?  Oy, she is very judgemental and sometimes gives no fucks about who knows it.  When my uncle died -- have I blog posted about this before? -- she forced my cousin (my uncle's son) to kneel at the coffin in obedience.  She forcefully grabbed the arm of my other cousin (my uncle's daughter), but she buckled because she said she had surgery on it and wasn't supposed to move.

Anyway, there was a reason she dropped by, and it's something I alluded to in a previous blog post and wanted to circle back to it in a bit more detail: Apparently, my uncle isn't doing so well.  He has been in deteriorating health for some time, and he was in the hospital for a spell around the holidays, and as she tells it, he is up and down health-wise since coming home.  And then she asks me not to talk to him.  Why?  She says that if I ask him the generic, "Hey, how are things going?" he is going to lie to me.  I should say that my aunt dropped by a week before the Lunar New Year.  You are supposed to, on that day, contact everyone you know, especially family, and say "Happy New Year!" to them.  I should have asked her what I should do in the wake of such an occasion, but it didn't occur to me then.

I acceded to her wishes and did not call her husband/my uncle.  In fact, I haven't contacted him at all.  And I don't know why in the fuck I haven't done so.  I did tell her that if my uncle takes a turn for the worse, all bets are off; she needs to tell me, and I have to tell my uncle's brother, my father, and if that prompts them to come home from where they were (Asia a month ago, Las Vegas now), well, so be it.  I want to think that her not dropping by means that my uncle is in a holding pattern.  Still, I haven't spoken to him, and it bothers me.  I mean, what if I "disobey" my aunt and, say, text my uncle?  Sure, he might lie to me, but I think the important thing is that I at least reached out to him, so so what?  I know the truth, and again, if the worst-case scenario happens, we will all know about it.

So why in the hell did my aunt tell me not to speak to my uncle?  I don't know how, but I wonder if this is some secret power move my aunt is pulling on me so that, if my uncle (Buddha forbid) passes away, she can somehow blame me or make me look bad to my folks, like I wasn't there for my uncle in his time of need.  She might be devious enough to tell my parents I made the house dirty while they were gone.  Fuckin' Christ, she fucking barged through the door like she owns the house.

I don't want to run afoul of my aunt because she can really fuck things up in my life, but I am essentially giving my uncle the silent treatment.  If he is in ill health, I think it makes sense for me to talk to him.  The more I think about it, the more I hate myself for following what my aunt says.  I should go to talk to him, and damn the consequences.  And I should do that ... before he dies.

Back To Vegas -- Maybe -- At 11 Tonight

OK, so this is what I was going to blog post until fatigue piled on me overnight ...

So my parents are coming home -- to the States definitely, probably only to Las Vegas -- at 11 o'clock (my time) tonight.  Thought they would be in Hong Kong a little while longer, but either they got bored or they had stuff to do.  Either way, they're in the States and it's freaking me the fuck out because there is every possibility that they'll fly home and not tell me, and the house is littered with my stuff.  Shit, there's a non-zero chance that they'll fly home in the morning.

That bullshit my parents pulled years ago, coming home and seeing the house laid out the way I want to (with my porno mags and cum towel out), traumatized me in a way that I have never healed from.  Goddamn them.  Goddamn them to fucking hell.  Because I am now frightened that they'll blindside me, and embarrass me, by coming home when I wasn't expecting them.

But I am doing anything?  No.  My stuff is still here, and while I've done some light packing, I haven't thrown anything away, and I haven't put anything in storage.  All my stuff ... fucking Christ, it's so overwhelming!  I have so much stuff, and I cannot part with any of it.  And I have gotten so depressed that my sentimentality is weighing me down that I get paralyzed.  Anything I do is not going to get me closer to my goal of going through my stuff.  And that was the plan when my parents left a month ago.

For all my trauma and the threat that they'll come home, I don't plan on doing any cleaning or storing, at least not yet.  I am banking on them being honest that they are not coming home for at least a month because they need to get their affairs in order in Vegas.  But they've lied before.  They always lie.  And yet I'm banking on them not lying because that gives me time to not panic and finally get around to my shit when I want to.

My self-hate that I haven't been able to go through my stuff like I wanted to is an issue I have to deal with later.  I need to worry about being able to go and throw everything into my storage unit when the time comes ... and if I know it's coming.

---

Oh, there are two other things I need to worry about.  One is the health of my uncle.  If something bad happens to him, of course the timeline moves up.  The other is all the alcohol I still have to consume.  If they come home when I least expect it, what do I do with it?

Not In A Good Place Right Now/Running Away From My Problems

Sorry, y'all, but I'm not in a good place right now.  I was just a scatterbrained, introverted zombie all at work today because my mind was not just somewhere else but everywhere else, you know?

Casting a pall over everything is the health of my uncle.  I'm just really, really scared that he can go at anytime.  But -- and I hate to be so fucking superficial about this -- I'm also paralyzed by the recent news that my parents are coming home ... to the States, apparently, not necessarily here.  They're "back" in about two weeks, and remembering how those royally fucked me by coming home without goddamn telling me -- man, I'm so fucking scarred by those two assholes for life -- they might as well be home.  And so I need to start cleaning up my house of the stuff I wanted to get around to but haven't.  The house is a mess, so I need to arrange one of my stripper girlfriends to come clean.  But I have not one but two swords of Damocles hanging over my head: Not just the possibility (maybe remote, maybe not) that my folks are coming home when they want to, but that my uncle can suddenly pass ... and then my folks will be coming home suddenly.  There are a lot of what-ifs that have my absolutely panic-stricken.

And that's why, instead of going home to do some chores such as cleaning the dishes or washing the clothes, I went out to have a drink and then dinner, then come home directly to sleep.  That's why I'm up now.  That's why the Zynga Poker streak has reset back to Day 1/10%.  And that's why, presented with everything I feel like I should be doing now, I'm doing absolutely nothing.

God, I fucking hate this all.