I haven't sent Bob off yet.
The box is here, the mailing label... I simply can't bear to be without him.
Today, I made the call... DHS will show up at 1P to pick him up, take him away... I will be reduced to the library once more in order to check emails, have my fix of journal reading... I know, I know, I've cried a river, now build a bridge and get the fuck over it.
Adapting to life back in New York has been difficult. I miss the comfort of people around me, of loved ones, of voices in the evening calling out to watch a program, or to have tea, or just to talk. I miss reaching down and finding good ole' Frank crouched down next to my bed, sleeping the sleep of the neurotic. Whimpering on occasion as he worries how he'll get past the scary white radiator with the magic mouse that leaps out and then is squished by the ugly red DIY book. I miss long term friends in Colorado, people I've known for a gazillion years... who know me better than I know myself.
Arrival here was a long dreary affair, a nice welcome home, going two hours a day to a part time job, worrying about the house in the Land O'Utes, thankful Jarhead is home, and knowing the Zenmaster will be in the City for a month or so on a job,... it's sadness and wondering what I'm doing right now, if one of my children is right... it's time to "....go home. You've had your New York adventure."
I still find great joy in my train rides, amazing how my first trip always sits me next to a true crazy person.... this last time, I faced a man who looked sane. Well dressed, tidy, he smiled at me and said, "Fucking cunt." and proceeded to rant about Nixon.
Yes, I was back in New York.
Held up on the 'F' for hours on Tuesday, packed into the Ferry with all the other commuters, I sit silent, watching, listening... trying to sort out if this really is what I should be doing, where I need to be, what I want to do...
Frustrated in some areas of my life, I think men are pooheads (not you, Peter...my AR partner), but, every other man I know is... do you not listen? They are clueless, really clueless in life.
What are you like??
Our Neville Fact: (the last one until Bob is back)
Margaret is fond of brussel sprouts, but, finds they give her wind. Her mother told her, "... a lady never has wind in front of her husband.", therefore, Margaret has never passed gas around Neville. For the last 45 years, she's stepped outside to look at the stars on a regular basis whenever they have her favourite veg. Neville has yet to put two and two together.
Golfwidow and I will be creating a Wikipedia entry for Neville. I'd be honoured if you think of some aspect of Neville and Margaret's life, and add it to this entry when we have it up and running upon Bob's return. I guess I'd best tell GW about this...