Not In Kansas Anymore...

Click your heels, and see if home is where you hang your hat, or somewhere else inside yourself as this simple, postmodern girl takes on L.A.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

I have had the crap day. I know. I always say I have crap days. I do have lots of days where I wake up and think, "what is the FUCKING POINT of continuing to live this way??" for sure, but I manage to get my ass out of bed anyway, and get through my life. I know right now no one would say, "gee, Jessica sure seems happy/cheerful/like she's getting laid" about me, but basically, I do all right. I go to work ( or not), chat up my friends, deal with traffic, take care of errands, and don't generally feel like the world is closing in on me at every single moment. If that were the case, I'd be in the doc's office pronto.

To begin, though, lately I have been in the doc's office. I haven't really been feeling well since my whole bronchitis episode, and all the caffiene I had to consume just to be on my toes for Dee was fucking with me, too. We've been debating upping my meds, and weaning me off coffee; I'm in the process of getting of the junk right now, while I can take extra Lexapro for any PMS and get that straight shot of seratonin right in there to defray any jones I might have. I feel like shit anyway. This is all the underlying chemical activity going on. Party on in Jessica's synapses. Yeah. Good times.

Secondly, Griffin has not eaten anything proper since Monday, and yet there's been plenty of cat vomit to clean up ( I know that's gross, but what am I gong to do? Sugar coat it?). He's down to about 5lbs. I'm worried SICK, but obviously, have no money to take him in. A friend of mine pirated some lactated ringer's solution and a microdrip line for me and has sent it my way, so I'm hoping some subQ fluids will help, as they're what he'd be prescribed anyway. I'm also shoving Pepcid AC down him ( cat dosage; also common with CRF- can you tell I've been through this before??) in hopes that it will settle his belly enough to get him interested in food. I don't know. I've been waking up every day pretty much expecting the worst, and trying to hope for the best. So there's that.

THEN I log into my email, and guess who resurfaces? Leo. Oh, no, I'm not kidding. I don't know what this man wants from me at this stage of the game, as I have made it exceptionally clear that I am deeply disappointed and unhappy with the state of our friendship as it relates to his most recent visit. Inasmuch, I asked him repeatedly to let me know ( phone, email, smoke signals) when he was ready to deal with the fallout from said visit, and did he? No. On three seperate occasions I reiterated my needing to know that he had gotten my email about tableing a discussion we were having about it til he got off cigarettes/caught up at work/felt more comfortable talking about these topics. TO be fair, I even said I needed a break myself, since I was getting pretty angry and had a new job at hand and needed some space, so would he please just call me when he's feeling better? Oh, and let me know that this is an okay agreement with you, so we know where we stand. Much to my chagrin, it's been nada, zip, nothing for a month. So I figured he had just had enough of me, and bolted. I had my moment of silence, was sad, and got on with my life, and soforth.
Except today he emails me to say hi and ask about a check he had written me while he was visiting, and blah blah blah. I about fell off my chair. Actually, I left my desk for a good ten minutes and just cried. Why? Because it's HARD to keep greiving the same thing over and over- I had put this away and marked "failed" on it and was working to Move On! But after my little snap, I wrote him : yes. Your check bounced. I paid the fee. I wouldnt worry about it. I didn't notify you because I thought you had bailed, since I didn't know what the silence meant after I had asked for some sort of confirmation three times. And if I don't hear back from you this time, I'll assume you dont want to speak to me ever again.
And then I went off and cried some more. I feel like Bill Cosby's wife in his bit about how she handled her errant children: "Roll your eyes at me? I'll roll your head! I didn't carry you in my body for nine months to have you treat me like your personal slave. If you think that, then you've GOT ANOTHER THING COMING!!" I felt like I was giving same speech about having someone try and skate on me that I've known for 22 years and thinking I won't notice, because if he thinks I don't see that he's trying to artfully dodge, then..... well, you know the rest. It just wears me out. All of it. I can't take it anymore. Not on top of everything else.

But perhaps it's the small things, because then, when I'm on craigslist today, applying for any job that might seem possible or probable or even tolerable, I happen upon an ad for a part-time receptionist at a salon in Sherman Oaks, and I check the address, and shut my mouth wide open, it's for Dee. Oh, the malicious glee, the I-Told-You-So joy, the terrible schaedenfruede of it!! I was just despairing a post ago about how this new dippy girl would be the Best Assistant Ever because I had done my job so well. Well. La dee dah. She didn't even last a frickin' week. Maybe there IS divine justice, after all. I won't say that too loudly, but I sure as hell will have a damned good laugh at their expense. God knows I need something to laugh