Cutting the String
*snip*snip*
Do you hear that sound? Do you know what it signifies?
It means that today when I get home, I will handing the key I have to Mel’s truck over and telling her that she was 30 days to vacate my apartment.
I don’t have the energy to dictate what occurred to get me to this point. If you’ve been reading this blog, then I’m sure you can guess…but after a 10:00 p.m. phone call, a question of if I was alone, and an explanation that it was her right to ask that question and know the answer because her vehicle and belongings are on the premises, my cup of tolerance and generosity spilled over and shattered.
I had a moment of revelation yesterday, though, that started it all off. I was talking to ChicagoLady and she referred to the said vehicle as a string. With that one little word I envisioned myself as a puppet, being played and manipulated to my puppetmaster’s every melodramatic, passive-aggressive whim.
And then Mel said she had a right to know if I was having company (presumably female, and presumably in my bed) because of said vehicle. Ah-ha!! Ding! Light-bulb!
While I still don’t understand that train of thought—and highly doubt that I ever will—I was able to put both of those ideas together and realized that ChicagoLady was EXACTLY right: it’s the last string.
So, I’m cutting the final string tonight and lancing this malign boil once and for all. Fineto.
*snip*snip*
Do you hear that sound? Do you know what it signifies?
It means that today when I get home, I will handing the key I have to Mel’s truck over and telling her that she was 30 days to vacate my apartment.
I don’t have the energy to dictate what occurred to get me to this point. If you’ve been reading this blog, then I’m sure you can guess…but after a 10:00 p.m. phone call, a question of if I was alone, and an explanation that it was her right to ask that question and know the answer because her vehicle and belongings are on the premises, my cup of tolerance and generosity spilled over and shattered.
I had a moment of revelation yesterday, though, that started it all off. I was talking to ChicagoLady and she referred to the said vehicle as a string. With that one little word I envisioned myself as a puppet, being played and manipulated to my puppetmaster’s every melodramatic, passive-aggressive whim.
And then Mel said she had a right to know if I was having company (presumably female, and presumably in my bed) because of said vehicle. Ah-ha!! Ding! Light-bulb!
While I still don’t understand that train of thought—and highly doubt that I ever will—I was able to put both of those ideas together and realized that ChicagoLady was EXACTLY right: it’s the last string.
So, I’m cutting the final string tonight and lancing this malign boil once and for all. Fineto.
*snip*snip*
posted by trace at 3:28 PM
1 Comments:
I think it is probably a good idea for both of you. It wont hurt her to stay someplace else for a couple of weeks before she leaves town. The sooner she is out of there, the sooner *she* can start healing. And the sooner you can have some peace of mind and a sense that your space is all yours.
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