The Retarded Righter

OK, well...I'm freakin out now.
I STILL don't have the Sellers name on the contract. No, really.
I'm three weeks shy of having to vacate, and dead in the water.
Can't schedule inspections, can't schedule transfers, can't reserve a U-haul.
Oh my Christ I'm freakin out!

I envision The Mer and I sleeping in the back of the Pathfinder out on I-35 in "Velma's"
parking lot. Maybe I could pick up enough cashola for that wii, woo, whatever thing while there huh?

The house is half boxed up, except of course for The Mer's room...he has a social life to consider.  I mean what would happen if the gang came barreling up the stairs all ready to play "Barbie's", only to find the Bratz packed?

What does it mean when your son has a better doll collection than the two girls on the block? It means your an awesome mama, is what it means!

If it makes any of you neurotic, sexually repressed readers feel better, he only plays "Barbie's" when the girls come over... the rest of the time he either practices his ballet, or arranges fresh-cut flowers from the garden.

The realization that I have absolutely no one to help me move, hit me yesterday.
It's as simple as this:

For the last year-and-a-half, all I've done with my free time has been this right here...blog, or some form of writing. Composing press-worthy emails, writing letters of the same caliber. In a nut-shell, if it could be written...I wrote it.

Meanwhile back in real-world, my friends and acquaintances went on with their REAL lives.
How charming.
Marriages were performed, babies were had, er - born, folks went and saw movies, concerts and plays, stuff I just didn't have time for because I was too busy...writing.
Some of you will know what I mean when I say, if I did manage to pull myself away from "My lover" long enough to perform an extra curricular, I felt what can only be described as a "Jones", or a "feam" (?) during the period of separation.

This mental disturbance, this neurosis, can negatively impact ones communication skills. As in, the inability to stay focused on a conversation with another real life person. The overwhelming concern with what one might be missing while apart, er...away from the Internet.

If, on the rare occasion I successfully managed to force my attention to the present, the vocabulary and social skills I had once praised myself for, were all but non-existent. I was retarded.

People, the real life kind, take this sort of behavior personally and find it offensive.
Eventually they stop coming by or calling. Why? It's pointless they think, she'll just be on that f*ing computer.

Which brings me back to the fact I have absolutely no one to help me move. I have absolutely no one to help me move...and I'm retarded. Fabulous.

Comments

[Jonathan Beckett]

I can relate about the lack of focus. I continually wander off while people are talking to me, and feel resentment that having to do some real-life thing is preventing me from writing "that" blog post...

[Maggie]

Nah, online friends are even better than real life ones because you never have to worry they'll ask you to help them move. Oh, wait...

Seriously, though, you'll get it worked out.