Late last night or in the wee (ha ha) hours of this morning, I got up to pee and did my thing with the lights off except for the bathroom nightlight and as I was first lowering the raised seat to pee I thought, “Huh, someone had a hell of a shit… there’s a big skidmark in there.” Then, as I was flushing and starting to lower the lid, I realized the “skidmark” had a particular familiar shape. Oh hell no. Blinked on the light just a couple seconds and… it was a dead tree roach. And here’s the fucking mystery. Did that little shit (see what I did there) fall into the toilet and drown? Did Dad spray it and then drop it into the water? Inquiring minds don’t really want to know. I PEED ON A TREE ROACH, Y’ALL. That’s all that needs said.
This is likely the last full day I’ll be at Dad’s. Not trying to be dramatic (no, really), just giving a heads-up to the grand total of five fucking bots who ever read this. Anyway, I’m within sight of the goal. Given what’s going on around here, I probably won’t be able to do laundry before I walk out, but it would be weird if Carrie didn’t let me use her facilities if I asked. And I have a plan for making sure that pretty much everything gets done and that I won’t be left with dirty clothes in my laundry bag, now that I’ve had to trot that out again — I can travel with some clothes dirty like that, but I really wouldn’t want to.
I have an appointment with Carvana in Broussard (Lake Charles was not even an option) on Monday at 1pm. Had I thought things through a little bit better, I might have gone later in the day, but it is just as well because I-10’s traffic between Lafayette and about… I’m gonna say… Scott? westbound is ridonkulous starting at about 3 or 4pm and it’s not fair to do that to Carrie even if her SUV is more up to the job. I may have actually hit the sweet spot without even trying, because I have a couple things to do before we go over there. I have one more Goodwill dropoff to do if I can’t get it done tomorrow (my bet’s on no), and I really should wash and vacuum the car, which I may or may not get done tomorrow and thus wouldn’t have to do it Monday. But I at least have wiggle room for both on Monday, if need be, if I get my ass moving in the morning.
Back in ’99 after I got Mike arrested and was suddenly homeless (but spare-bedroom- and couch-surfing), I spent a lot of time writing out to-do lists. I find myself doing that again. I’ve done it a few other times between then and now, but always in times of crisis. I write to-do lists in times of crisis for the same reason I hate getting interrupted when I’m working on something: I just fucking KNOW I will forget something important and fuck it all up. Of course, I’ve also had to rewrite said list a few times because I kept realizing I was forgetting important things. I cannot fucking win.
But I’ll do the best I can. I can’t do anything else.
The two things I dread most about this situation are seeing what they actually pay me for the car and then paying to mail a bunch of packages. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH
But I hit the deadline in time for the $2000 quote. I don’t TRUST it, I’m sure they’ll find some fucking reason to drop the offer by about eight hundred fucking bucks, but I think I could even get by on $1200 okay for the next few months if I play my cards right. I’d just rather not have to. I think that if I get paid somewhere between $2000 and $1500, I’ll be okay for a while. If I get the $2000, for sure I will get a bicycle on the other end and then I’ll REALLY be doing well. It can be a Walmart bicycle (yep, they have Walmart in Crescent City). I’m not picky.
I’m not looking forward to paying for the packages, but carrying them in is going to be even less fun. What I might do is just take in two or three at a time to give other people a chance to go through the line. If there is no one else in the line, it won’t matter. If there are people, it’s a win-win situation. Carrie might even be okay if she can sit in her SUV in the air conditioning playing her phone games. I miss having a countertop scale and a printer at home, though. Those may be things I spend money on when I’m earning. Having it ready to go is a huge help when you have a lot to send.
I still haven’t told Dad. I think I have already gone over why I am not telling Dad and even if I haven’t, I’m not in the fucking mood right now. I haven’t been sleeping well. It isn’t even that I feel bad about leaving here; that emotion is more like smoldering aggravation that my one option up til now to not wind up sleeping in my car through an Ohio summer was to move in with a guy who’s a dickhead when he’s drunk and not much better sober. And everyone applauding me for being there for him. The only reason y’all were so damn happy is it didn’t have to be you anymore. There is every chance you know him better than I do. Do you not feel any obligation to look after your neighbors, despite a very clear standard in the Bible that that is exactly what you should be doing? Whyever the fuck not? I mean, I don’t follow the Bible, but most people around here claim to. I’m still waiting for the fucking evidence from like 99 percent of them.
Well, I have some bad news for you. It does have to be you again. Good luck with that.
And, real talk, I know y’all WERE there for him. Maybe not always as often as he needed, I guess, but enough to keep him alive. And thank you for that. But how about not acting like “WHEW I GET TO UNLOAD THIS INCREDIBLE BURDEN ON YOU NOW”bruh, your “incredible burden” involves you walking into his house every once in a while. You haven’t had to put up with his mood changes and irrationality. And drinking. Did I mention the drinking. Y’all had the option of refusing to visit him if you knew he was drinking. Me, I had nowhere else to go.
Until now.
Oops.
I’m not sure whether he’s guessed, though. He hasn’t said as much, but a little while ago he gave me a used prescription bottle full of quarters. Did you know that the normal-sized prescription bottles are just big enough to house ten dollars’ worth of quarters? He was telling me that the other day. The way he gave the bottle to me this evening was weird. He was watching TV, then he got up and shuffled to his room, then next thing I know I’m $10 richer, then he went back to watching TV. Like… does he know? Because ten dollars’ worth of quarters is indeed a useful thing to have when you are traveling by bus. Vending machines, y’know. Even if he thought I would be driving, the same is true of rest areas on the Interstate. I dunno. I have given up trying to figure him out. I am not sure it is actually possible.
I should say, it was more like $9.80 richer. He accidentally put a nickel in with the quarters in the bottle. No skin off my nose. I have several quarters of my own, so I swapped it out. He was definitely right about the ten-dollar capacity, though. That’s cool. Lots easier to handle than a paper roll around a stack of quarters.
Speaking of coins. I really need to see if I can find a Coinstar around here. I hate them because you have to pay a fee, but in a pinch they are highly useful. Unfortunately, I don’t think the Jennings Walmart has one anymore. I wonder if the money services people have a similar machine behind the counter and would be willing to use it for me? It benefits them too. If I even remember, I’ll try to ask. My penny collection has gotten the fuck out of control and that’s just extra weight to carry.
Revising a bit what I said yesterday:
1. Yes, I’ll be leaving some things here after all. Pretty much innocuous. I didn’t want to, but I’m already tired of lugging things around. I’m leaving the document shredder, the purple photo and document boxes I kept pics and memorabilia in (moving the boxes to California is out of the fucking question — I was a more efficient packer tucking their former contents in with other things, and here’s hoping I don’t ruin any photos), and maybe a couple other things. It won’t be like last time, at least.
2. I may get to the end of the gift card balances before I’m done with my last Walmart errand here. I need some kind of rolling luggage with a handle on it, and I need a wallet. I have now shitcanned the purse I got here two and a half years ago because it is fucked, quite frankly, and I also do not feel like juggling three bags when I could just have the two, and only one of those to deal with during the actual trip. My wallet (it was closer to a pocketbook, I guess, in size?) was fucked too. My luck it would have fallen apart or something and anyway, it wouldn’t have fit in my pocket, not even the ones on those cargo pants.
The backpack Matt gave me is fine for a carryon. I’ll double-check the Greyhound site to make sure, but I don’t see why not. Bonus, it has water-bottle pockets. One on each side. I will also stash my laptop and my iPad in there (don’t get excited; I bought it four years ago and it’s one of the original Airs) so I can keep an eye on them.
The funny thing about the purse is that I cleaned it out before I tossed it, and… there was thirty dollars in my fucking purse. Not in the wallet. In the PURSE. In one of the two main compartments. A twenty and two fives. I have no idea how it got there. So I had forty-three in bills (more in change), and then found thirty, so now I have seventy-three. WEIRD. The most likely explanation is I already had that thirty and then forgot it was there. If Dad is being the Money Fairy now, I have no idea why. My bet’s on “no.” Me forgetting things and him being vague are not a good combination. A couple times I’ve jumped right to the conclusion that he stole something, only to discover I’m just a fucking fanny. I’ve been right about him taking something of mine one time. Just once. Found it right where I expected it to be, too. It was absent-mindedness, not larceny. So if I’m usually wrong about him when it comes to things disappearing, I can’t automatically assume he is making things appear.
Ugh. Let me pack the last of the Goodwill shit in that last box and then crash. I really should get things out to the car because he’s in bed now but, real talk, I am not down for any more tree-roach encounters. I will have a bit left to do in the morning, so if he’s up then and I have to wait for him to nap, I’ll have something to occupy my time. That is not a bad thing. Ni ni.