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6:09 p.m. - Jan. 06, 2003
Return to Reality
Fuck. Where did the time go? Away, away, away...kept myself busy. Busy as a fucking little bee, let me tell you.

Distract. Decompress. Obsess. Manic moments of divinity on the verge of insanity.

Vacation no more. Reality once again. Again the wheel turns. This was my first day back to work since Friday, December 20th. Holy fuck, that's right...I have entered back into society.

I loved my little break from reality and from all of THIS.

Slept late. Stayed up til dawn. Ate when I remembered or when the pain or noise in my gut got to be too much. Moved every single piece of furniture in my treehouse. Several times. Hit dozens of resale shops, junk shops and yard sales - in search of little trinkets of trash or treasure. Old things made new again. Things to make me feel pretty on the inside. Surround myself with things of beauty...to hide the dark cloud that I felt rising inside of me.

Holiday schmoliday.

I am no grinch. I love the pretty lights and GLITTER of the holidays. But this season was difficult for me.

Yes, he's back. Spent the entire fucking time with HER. That's right. Christmas. New Years. Two and a half fucking weeks.

THINK he got back last night. Fairly certain he got back last night. No word. No surprise.

Kept myself busy, like I said.

Tore apart my iceberg of a bathroom. Iceberg no more. Five days (more or less) tearing that mother up. Ripped up the entire bottom row of tiles in there. Rebuilt a wall of foam. Caulked & tiled and scraped and bleached and bled over this little project. Little project my ass. But it was worth it. My bathroom is now actually operational...and beautiful...and clean...and I did it myself. Ok...with LOADS of help from Clint. Worth it. Every last fucking body ache, bruise or chemical-burned moment was MORE THAN worth it.

Took off those ugly fucked up falling apart glass doors too. Hung up a nice new shiny steel pole with a stinky new vinyl shower curtain. In eggplant. Love it.

There was much mess. Much scraping and bleaching and sanding and yanking and bending and pulling and cursing and rejoicing. Little blood shed. Little back pain. Smelt like bleach for fucking days. Removed a few layers of flesh. Not needed. Carry on.

Showered very little. Did absolutely no freakin laundry. Wore the same damn clothes for days on end. Entered society only rarely - mostly to the new little coffee shop / bar that just opened up down the street (and many, many trips to the hardware store). Other than that, I was at home nesting....manic as a fuckin loon. Full-blown conversations and sometimes even arguments with myself. No matter. I always won.

Spent lots of time with Sasha and Blake. When I needed HUMAN contact or a good laugh, they were SO THERE for me. On so many levels.

Actually cleaned myself up and PUT ON A FUCKING DRESS to go out to a New Years Eve party. Much food at this party of "older" people. Ate every fucking thing in sight. Held deep conversations with complete strangers on the back patio, freezing as we smoked our cigarettes in the cold. Divinty hit. How much did I take? Not my responsibility. Sasha in charge of administration and the movement of persons by way of vehicular operation. Cold. So fucking old. Left that drafty old house before midnight. Well before midnight. I looked at the clock as we scrambled into the car, unsure of our destination. It was just a bit after 11PM. Drove to Party #2. Not many cars outside. Read the sign - party sucks. Didn't even park. Kept right on going. Rang in the New Year in the best way I EVER HAVE. In the castle (same as last year) only this time, there were no costumes and no mess to clean up afterwards. Just Sasha. And Blake. And Philly & Jack. Of course - lots of little (and not-so-little) furry beasts all around us too!

There was love. Much, much love.

For almost three mother fucking weeks I found myself without any need or want of sex. I just only thought of it for the very first time this past Saturday afternoon. Sunshine. Does it to me every time. Nothing makes me hornier than sunshine. Suddenly on Saturday, I found myself in HEAT. Wherever that came from. Don't know. Don't care. Hit me like a ton of bricks. NEED a deep, passionate kiss. Don't really need or want for anything more than just that. But a kiss is sooooooooooooo wonderful. Ah. Then...migraine. Oh pain. Pain in my neck and in my back and in my shoulders and in my hair.

I hate it when my hair hurts.

No escape from the pain. Oh wait. Hot jacuzzi tub. Yes. I was at the castle. Just finished helping Sasha & Blake move some of their own furniture. Crawled up the stairs and drew a hot bath. Added green salty stuff for sore muscles. Soaked away all of my troubles. Well, some of the little troubles. Oh. And I masturbated. I found that I NEEDED it. Fuck. I grudge-fucked myself and had an orgasm in record-time.

ah.

Now it is Monday. I'm back at work. Only it's 7PM and no one else is at the office. And Eltin is IM'ing me. He got in late last night - at midnight, after many delays. Thirty hours of travel, with the delays.

Hmmm.

Knackered but wants to see me.

Yeah, we'll see...

He's still at the office. Asks if he can see me. My reply was dry.

"Can I see you?"

"Can you?" was my reply.

Valid fucking question.

Correct Oxford fucking English would have been for him to have asked me, "May I see you?"

But he asked with a can and I replied with a can.

Rock beat scissors.

Dry. No real encouragement. Gotta make him earn his way back into my space. My space is so beautiful now. I should charge admission.

Nine bucks to enter the first level. It's pretty there too yea sure. With my new-again Polynesian-style blue & gold flowered easy chair. Purchased for a mere $30 at a little shop run by blue-haired ladies that felt like nuns to me. So sweet.

It was because of this one simple, innocent purchase that everything SIMPLY EVERYTHING had to change.

All.

Or nothing.

This is who I am.

Know tyself.

I sit here typing nonsense now that needs not be written. And there's that rumbling pain in my belly again. Oh yea. Food. Need food. I force myself to slow my actions to a snail's pace. To make him wait. To avoid having to go home to an empty house.

Oh wait! Fuck. My meow meows! Gotta get on home...to feed my little darlings and obsess about yet another thing that might just be one inch out of it's PERFECT alignment.

I am not obsessive compulsive. I am however. slightly imbalanced. But I'm working on that.

I think I'm working on that.

Ok, to think is to begin. Right? Ok. So. Gotta get on home. Gotta feed those cats. Gotta find some food for this aching belly of mine.

 

 

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