Legerdemain's existence (emmowyn) wrote,
Legerdemain's existence
emmowyn

further downhill

saturday morning/early afternoon was relatively uneventful. i slept alone, only my over-stuffed Stitch kept me company in bed. i woke around 10:30 and i stayed in bed until 12:30; lounging on pillows and finishing a borrowed book. during this time, SBM went to the bathroom twice, neither time did he peek into the bedroom to check on me. i am 13 years old again, i live in silence and i detest my existence. in the living room, SBM civilly greeted me with a "good afternoon", i returned the greeting in kind. i channel-surfed. he offered me some of his oatmeal, i declined. we watched a full movie and a half; i made a conservative lunch for myself and SBM made a private phone call on the upstairs-floor of the house. the walls are thin; he was calling his friend about purchasing the pick-up truck. they made arrangements for driving down together, examining the vehicle and possibly completing a title-transfer if the purchase is to be made.

when he made it back to the living room, stu was dressed and vainly searching for his checkbook. i was curled up in the corner between the couch and a chair, Stitch was in my lap and my head was resting on the arm of the chair. stu informed me that he would be driving down with dfromthesouth to look at the truck. he then asked me if i wanted to go along, i replied evenly with a "no". after he stomped around looking for his checkbook, he then started complaining about how difficult it would be to move vehicles around with only 2 people when there would likely be three vehicles. i suggested that he carpool with dfromthesouth; "that won't work". another 5 minutes of complaints prompted me to offer my assistance. stu stated that he didn't "need" me, but my presence would be helpful.

well, gee.

i left my perch and started towards the bedroom so that i could change my clothes. he stopped me with a stern, "if you don't want to go, don't go. i don't like your attitude."

me: "i have no feelings toward what you want. if you need my help, i'll come along. and for the record: YOU HAVE NOT SEEN 'ATTITUDE'."

stu reiterated that he has no need for me, but that i would make things easier.

...

dfromthesouth arrived, entered the house and immediately asked me how i was, what happened with the accident, etc. we chatted while stu lost himself. it was decided that stu and i would drive down in my mother's car, following dfromthesouth to the truck.

...

the two men circled around the truck as if in a sort of initiation. the engine started on the second try with a triumphant wheeze and the men grunted while looking at the moving parts under the hood. dfromthesouth talked about the truck, relating a few stories and ended with asking me if i was sure that i wanted to purchase the truck. i shook my head and told him that the truck was not for me, stu had decided to purchase it for himself. but yes, i do like it.

...

i followed dfromthesouth (with stu as a passenger) to the office where the title transfer would occur. i met a wonderfully spry 85 year-old woman who made me wish that i had an ounce of her gumption even at this age of 23. she was amazing, truly an inspiration.

the transaction was finished and we were on our way. dfromthesouth had errands to run in the area so he was off, stu had decided that he wanted to stop at a gas station to purchase power steering fluid and get back to the truck. we then:

* drove the truck to the gas station where we stopped for the PS fluid.
* i followed, just in case
* he filled up the gas tank (it was bone-dry)
* topped off the brake fluid
* prodded at things under the hood
* filled the tires with air
* i sat in my mother's car waiting for him
* both drove back to the house where the truck was located
* loaded the truck with items from the house (those things that were not going to be sold and offered to us)
* finally headed back to stu house

at this point, i was achy and very grumpy. i had no gloves with me and i was not dressed warmly enough to be working outside. the cold had attacked my lower back, hips, knees and feet. i was in an interminable mood.

...

at stu's house, i immediately took to my comfy-clothes and swaddled in my wool wrap, i settled into the comfy-chair. stu asked if i was hungry and stated that he was. i told him that the fridge was full of meals that i had already prepared. he said, "oh, that sounds good." i waited to see if he was going to heat something for us.

finally, the maid went to work. my next tattoo will be a small apron, so that i don't ever forget how easily one can be placed into indentured servitude.

i reunited with my glass of wine. i finished the bottle and slept fitfully, though 4 hours less than our SBM did, because maids do not have the luxury of sleeping in.

and so, here i am on sunday morning, being vaguely ignored by our dear SBM. i believe that he is unloading the truck. i would offer to help, but he doesn't need me.

we are expected to go to a birthday party for his goddaughter; she turns 18 today. I DO NOT WANT TO GO. he is going to give her several hundred dollars and pat her on the head. this for a girl who does not ever send a card or have a christmas gift for him, she never calls to say hi... but she always greets him with " UNCLE STUUUU" and a big hug. well, if he gave me $100 every time i saw him, i would be excited to see him too. her parents will probably give her a car. she will scream and bounce around the room, giggling and crying.

i hate birthday parties. my feelings are not limited to other people's parties, but my own as well... which would explain why i have not had a birthday party since i turned 7.

it is going to snow today, with a mixture of sleet and a nice topping of ice and freezing rain. i suspect that several people will cancel, so my anxiety of being sober in a group of people that i don't know will be slightly lessened.

i really do not want to go.
Tags: ailments, daily drag, sbm's friends, scrumptious bearded man/hero
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments