2020 hits like any other year and I
start off with some optimism that Josh (Carol's son) will find what he
is looking for, move on, and that Carol and I can get back to a somewhat
normal life, me working to support the house, her tinkering in the
garden, a reasonable existence... perhaps some travel, friends coming
over after the pandemic winds down... a return to a normal lifestyle.
NOPE
Carol tells me that she feels that she
is getting older and needs special care... no doubt brought on my Josh
constantly telling her that she is feeble and incompetent. Little things
set him off in a major way. She is making soup and sits the spoon on
the counter for example... he will go into a yelling spree telling her
that she is a "stupid cunt incapable of doing even the most simple things"...
because she didn't sit the spoon on a plate instead of the countertop.
Then, make her throw the dinner away because she was an idiot and
"contaminated" it.
I've tried to intervene... and I need to
get him out of the house as soon as possible... the two are
deteriorating at an alarming speed. I just got an email from her that she will be leaving me...
that her other son Ben who lives in Seattle will be buying a house
soon, and will put her in the existing condo with either live-in health
care or on-call nursing assistants. Financially he is totally capable of
supporting this. Because Josh has deemed her "unfit to live with someone as irresponsible as me".
So that means that once again I will be
left alone to face life in an empty house. In a house that I have worked
hard to make a home, with a garden that I helped her to make into
something that she liked. A place that we painted and worked on to
remake it ours... And for what?
I just finished up about a month in San
Francisco, and have landed in Oregon for another project. I should be
here about a week and return to home. But I don't want to. I just do not
want to be there... not with them.. not with all the issues they bring
into the equation.
They are so germ-aphobic that even after
being sequestered there a week, I am expected to text them if I need to
use the bathroom so that they can scurry into their rooms and shut the
door lest I infect them. And I am not allowed to enter the kitchen so
that I don't contaminate it. Even the act of me opening my office door
is a major infraction upon their welfare. And now... I no longer care
what they think. So when I return... hell will be unleashed.
I haven't been able to be with my dog
since about March 16, and we are rolling into July in a couple of days.
Their reasoning is that there is a 1% chance I could be a carrier, and
there is a 1% chance that Maggie Mae might transmit that to Carol, and
subsequently there is a 1% chance she could catch COVID19, and if so, a
1.2% chance that she could die. And because there is a 0.000012% chance
this action could kill her... the poor dog must be sequestered in the
bedroom all day except to go to the bathroom. It's horrible.
I just got a call from Carol today that Maggie May must be given away...
because she is depressed and showing signs of stress. I told them, "NO
KIDDING!" Maggie is used to freely roaming the house, coming up to visit
me, sleeping at my feet and getting loved on. We often run into my
bedroom for a 15 minute nap and cuddle session... then she is used to
going down to the sofa to lay in the afternoon sun, and later going into
Carol's bedroom to nap. If she wants to go outside, she would tell
me... and sometimes be 10 minutes, while other times spend hours out
there.
But no... for them this cannot happen. Assholes.
I cannot reason with them... Josh has corrupted her way of thinking far
beyond anything I can ever hope to repair. And now I don't want to. I
just want them out.
The best I can do is have them give
Maggie May to my friend Wolf to bring to his house... and after I flush
my place of their presence, Have him bring her home to me. I am home for
often a month or two... then go for a week and rerun for another month.
This series of long extended trips is very unusual. So when I go for
only a week... he can watch her for me. Mostly at his place, then bring
her with him when he gets my mail so that she can run around in HER HOME
as she is used to doing.
This is tearing me up inside.
I'm working very hard to concentrate on my work, to be a good employee,
to get the job done. Perhaps it is the only reason I am still sane... I
have something to focus on other than the deep pit my life has become.
All I can do at this point is keep volunteering for any and all travel to avoid going to "the house" which I cannot at this point call "a home"
until I either must return, or they have moved out. I feel that I have
enough to remain on the road until August. Instead of flying home after
this project, I will likely visit my friends and family in New Orleans
until my next project. It is an advantage I have of being able to work
anywhere there is internet except for field work. At that point when I
do return to the house... I am not going to be the same calm person who
puts up with way more than I ever should. I'm not going to take it. I
will fight for what is mine... even literally if needed. It may come
down to calling the police and having them remove the infestation.
All I wanted in life was a partner to have my back... someone I could
trust, a friend, a confidant, someone to work with as a team to take
care of the things around the home, both of us working for a common goal
of a good life. A partner.
Seriously... is that really too much to ask for?
About the only good news in this cycle is that I was able to learn
enough programming and design to create my own world in VRCHAT. It gives
me something to focus on that is not painful, and not work related.
Being in a hotel for hours on end you need something to break up the
loneliness or it will take it's toll on you.
