a long thin, line…a thread

I have been in a contemplative mood today.  I was talking to Fleur de lis earlier about some of it, and she asked me if I blogged today.  She told me that I do my best writing when I get in these moods.  Funny that.  I have been meaning to sit down and write all day today because of my mood.  She confirmed what I already knew.  I had to write it down.  

So I’ve been thinking.  Random thoughts held together by a common thread.  That thread…I am about to be single.  For the past 18 years I have had someone else to consider when making a decision.  I often asked for an opinion when it wasn’t really necessary.  Questions like, “What should we have for dinner tonight?”  and “Can you think of anything else we need from the store besides…” and “Which candle scent do you like better…vanilla or cinnamon?”  I could have just taken into account my own opinion and made my choice, but I didn’t.  Now I am facing doing all those things…deciding on dinner, grocery shopping, and making purchases…without having someone else to consider really.  My kids count of course, but I rarely call them up to ask their opinions.  Fleur de lis will be around as well.  I’m sure I’ll ask her those same sorts of questions.  It just feels funny knowing I won’t be asking him.   

I will be getting a place to live, starting utilities, and making other major decisions that I have never had to make on my own before.  I hate making decisions.  I hate shopping around.  Shopping around is important when you are choosing a place to live.  I don’t need to just sign a lease at the first apartment or house I see.  I need to consider my options.  That thought wears me out, and I haven’t even started the process.  It’s not laziness on my part.  It is truly that I do not care.  I don’t need fancy.  I don’t need nice.  I don’t need big.  I need a place to live.  I want it to be odor free, bug free, and repair free.  I want it to be close to where I am now.  I would love for someone to just plop me down in a place that fits those criteria, and it be done.  Someone did that for me/us in our last two homes.  I think it spoiled me.  

It’s been a day since I started this post and the thoughts that were flitting around my head then are not the same thoughts that are here today.  Today I am in a mood.  I am pissy.  I’ve slept off and on for the past 2 days.  My family has been sick so I’ve done what I can to make them feel better.  Today they seem to be better, but still I slept.  During my fitful sleep I had a strange dream.  

I needed to go to the bathroom, and I was in a place where I had to use a public restroom.  For some reason I chose to go to the bathroom without putting on my shoes.  I entered the restroom in my socks and saw that it was quite dirty.  They were working on the restroom so there were buckets of goo, toilets laying on their sides, stalls without doors, and just general mayhem everywhere.  I tiptoed through the maze of dirt and disorder trying to find a clean toilet.  There were none.  I finally chose to squat and pee in a bucket just around the corner from the stalls hoping that nobody would come into the restroom before I could finish.  Because I was peeing in a bucket there was no toilet paper handy.  I decided to use my middle-eastern knowledge and wipe with my left hand.  After I was done I heard several ladies enter the restroom from a second entrance.  I peered around the corner and noticed that those stalls had been finished out and were lovely.  The floor was clean, and there was even an attendant handing out towels after hands were washed.  I couldn’t believe I didn’t continue on around the corner before I squatted over that bucket!  I couldn’t believe that the outside door to the unfinished part of the restroom wasn’t locked.  And where was the sign directing people to the nice clean stalls around the corner?  I washed my hands and took the towel from the attendant.  She looked like she was waiting for a tip, but I wasn’t about to give her one.  I had peed in a bucket and wiped with my hand!  No way was she getting a tip from me.

Fleur de lis is sick.  I hate that.  She won’t let me see her, because she doesn’t want me to catch whatever it is she has.  Intellectually I can understand that seeing her and possibly catching something that could then spread to my kids isn’t  a good idea.  But I am dying.  I hate sitting back and doing nothing.  She lives alone.  I want to make fish sticks and “smac-aroni and cheese” for her.  I want to bring her fluids, and take her temperature, and hold her hand.  I want to run to the store to get her medicine. I want to put a cool cloth on her fevered head.  I want her to fall asleep while I read to her and wake up wanting to know how the story ends.  Silly I guess, but I can’t help it.  I’m not a romantic really.  I just want to do for her what nobody ever has.