meltdown

saturday...


was not a good day.

in fact, it was the mother of all frustration. the nexus of evil in an evil suki's life. it was the nucleus of disaster.

it was...simply put...my breaking point. just ask sam. she got the 3 page hysterical text message. (ps. so sorry about that, yo)


We were supposed to be at oqui's mother's house all day to help her winterize the house (ie. eat pizza). My niece's birthday party was at 4...her father needed company and support (single father of two girls with 12 thirteen year old girls in his house=ready to crack). I wanted to meet Sam at the climbing gym for some harness time and a box o' goodies. I was hungry. We had two showings on the house, a massive mess to clean up and an ignorant family of 4 showed up unannounced, came into my home (by my good graces) and insulted it in front of me.

I spazzed.

I was running frantically around the house crying, pointing out everything wrong with it. everything I SHOULD have done to it. everything I did do that sucked. this plant doesn't belong here. these curtains should be hung. this wall is smudged. this window is dirty. these floors are a mess. this carpet is disgusting.

Oqui finally snatched me up, gave me a hug and pointed out that...

they got to me.

and boy did they. I felt so violated. I'm sooooooo busy and these fools show up unannounced (I had a sponge in my hand when I opened the door)...and have the nerve to snub their nose at my property. MY HOME because my yard isn't big enough or the floors are scratched.

it hurt. bad.

Oqui (still hugging me) told me to quit the second job. he asked me if it was worth it to try to help others with their kids...when I felt like I had so little time with my own. when I mourn the loss of reading time. when I WISH I had cooked dinner last night. when I have to pay someone else to walk my dogs instead of running them, myself.

when I feel like a stranger in my own house b/c I haven't had the time or money to make it my own....

and now I'm selling it.

where the fuck DO I live, anyway? where is my home?

everything I do to that house is to convince someone else that their couch would look stellar in the living room.

fuck that. if it doesn't sell in the next few weeks I'm taking it off the market, painting the bedroom chocolate brown and baking a pie for us.

...not because it makes the house smell warm and inviting for rude and retarded strangers...

because it makes it feel like home for US.