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This was
Another oddball day.

My mind at work, I'll tell ya. The shit I end up doing. Well, sad to say, this was a less memorable day than usual.

Cherish was supposed to call. Michael didn't. Dad did, though

I spent most of my day camping in my living room; almost entirely on the couch. I drowsed my way through the first part of the day; I broke down and partook in a little coffee, around 2 PM. By 3, Gay K had settled in for a stay. I'd started cutting the jean-legs for the quilt, and stopped soon after he came.

Gay K would have stayed all night.

I booted him at 9, so I could take a shower. That, and I just kind of wanted some alone-time. Today's visit was better than that last time, after Group. Still; he mooched for yarn. That was pretty irritating. I gave him a pair of crochet rolls. There was no way in hell I was giving the kid my nice stuff. It seems less like I'm being an asshole when I consider that he's always on me for handouts, and, the yarn I have is designated for Anni's blanket.

I'm not in to the idea of staying up to 3 AM right now. He had to go.

Unfortunately, now that it's nigh 10, it's too late to tap in to one of my other friendships for a bit. Linds will be sleeping soon. Sarah will be studying.

The part of the day that concerns my mind is the bit about my mom. She came to see me; she won't be back for 2 weeks. She gave me money, I tried to give it back. That's weird, isn't it? So unlike me. I'm never stoic. Is it something to do with the shit-state I've buried myself in? Am I getting all private now that I probably really shouldn't?

It wasn't a lot of money. It came with a hint that this was probably the last of the financial aid my mom would provide. There was a semi-threat of "finding me help" if I kept getting in to this broke boat. I have a vague feeling that would involve Lynda, Mom's Cancer Trooper friend. Lynda's the kind of go-getter-gal you end up avoiding because she crams sunshine down your throat with a bottle of Buckley's. You are never as pious or as useful as she will ever be -- ergo? Next to her, no one is good enough.

I can only imagine negative reinforcement as applied to my finances.

Ho-boy!

But, let's not dig at someone who would probably get real offended.

Maybe she meant putting me in a home? I feel like someone's negligent widow grandma. I guess she's not planning on the house. Works out better without it.

I'm 21, ready to retire. Yup. Put me to pasture in a little house full of retarded people and middle aged marms in white jackets. We'll do crafts all day, and do a little volunteering on the weekend.

Maybe I'm getting this all wrong.

But then, are we The Mental particularly known for our skills at taking care of ourselves? Especially we who aren't really socially adjusted, or even on the right medication chains?

I could be on to something here.

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*DISCLAIMER
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Circa 2010