copyright 1998 diary of a mad handyma'am an anonymous cyberspace diary & property of the mad handyma'am    1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11 12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31

November 3rd, 1998

It's safe to say that I've been stressed out as of late. This shouldn't come as a surprise really. It's another repetitive circumstance, or, so it seems.

In my mind though, I must admit that I see this stressful pattern as justification for adding a new bathroom built around a Jacuzzi whirlpool tub. The handyma'am mind set seems to be geared toward construction or other complications involving manual labor and tools. The Jacuzzi signifies the fact she truly wants to relax.

I can't imagine giving a project like that to a construction company while I sit and watch. Shit! Even I must admit that if I were to do that, I may very well end up with total angst and more stress than if I had done it myself. Not to mention the possibility of the contractor bailing due to my critical demands. I'd probably end up paying extra for hanging around the site and bitching at them. Or, maybe they'd pay me to stop.

Did you do your civic duty and VOTE today? I did.

Yep, I voted first thing in the morning at the local township hall. 7 a.m. Black cracky asphalt parking lot in the VIP spot near the front door. Get out. Sling purse handle over my shoulder, fling my hair from my face and reach for the door. Inside there are folding tables set up in a room the size of an elementary school gym. There I see them. The snow white haired ladies with matching white steaming styro coffee cups. Three of them shushed me on my way through the polling process. Each were smiling < a secret "thank-you for voting" gesture >, unknowingly jumpstarting the day.

So - then I work for 10 hours, right? After that, it's one more stop to the dentist. For a no charge look see. And everything looks great... so, I'm smiling.

Then I think: Wow! If you can come and go smiling then, hey... that is a great thing!

And, so it is.

As a personal reward I took the night off. After getting home and doing pet duty, I ran a very hot bubble bath. And yes - it WAS Calgon - and, it did in fact, ...take me away.

This evening marks yet another milestone, not only did I enrich my vast knowledge base by reading the National Enquirer in the bubble bath - but, I also had dinner there, too!

Well... not a full course dinner or anything... OK then - I ate a sandwich. But - at dinnertime whatever you eat is considered dinner. At least in my book it is...

...even if you are in the bathtub. Therefore - if you've never treated yourself to this weirdly wonderful experience, I dare say I would highly recommend it.

Remember to make the sandwich FIRST - or, beckon a reliable sandwich maker during the process.

November 4th, 1998

Today I have been overwhelmed by compassion for the people affected by Hurricane Mitch, and, the resulting devastation. The death estimate has climbed to 9,000 in Central America; mostly in the Honduras and Nicaragua, and the fate of even greater numbers of missing remains clouded. To date predictions are that as many as 13,000 people were still unaccounted for in remote areas. Over a million people were forced to flee their homes.

Health officials warned of the threat of cholera outbreaks posed by pools of stagnant water littered with rotting bodies. Malaria and dengue fever were also a danger as mosquitoes multiplied in the flood waters. And, to top off the flooding and the mud slides - they had a volcanic eruption today.

I cannot imagine the devastation and sheer horror of such an event. Not while I sit here in a chair typing my thoughts while heat flows from the floor registers. Not while there is plenty of food here between the refrigerator and the cupboards < and we'll sometimes say there's nothing to eat >. Not while the phone, the cable and the electrical service remains intact. No - I can't.

It's hard to imagine that shock. It's hard to imagine that numbness.

In fact, right now it's hard to imagine getting too upset about a scratch on my car. Even a ding. Or, a stain - anywhere. Not even one that won't come out.

And, it's hard to imagine why any of us would want to wallow in any self-contrived anything: be it misery or pity - - - while we are so damned blessed in so many ways.

November 17th, 1998 < see... I DID slack >

Words.

Words tapped   in    l-e-t-t-e-r    b y     l e t t e r .

sentence by sentence

no   M  A  T    T    E      R           how       diSheVelEd

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- sparse ones at that.

...so now, I'm gonna try and play a little catch-up.

Hmmmm.... now where shall I begin?

< insert annoying song and dance routine >

ladies and gentlemen... may I have your attention please...

...we are pleased to announce that the in-house Laundromat is now open!

What a deal we got on the plumbing work, too! Lanky man Kurt had no problem with the crawlspace scenario. None at all. Not even when he got slimed cutting into the old drain pipe... < clothing and hair! > What a sweetie!

The materials cost for the plumb job was a mere 40 bucks... and the labor charge was given up for barter in exchange for a piece of custom artwork to be done by myself prior to Christmas!

WHAT a deal THAT turned out to be, eh! < like I need other tasks, right?! >

Oh, well. It's routine for me to bite off as much as I can possibly chew - even if takes months to chew it...

The WING update

Laura and I have been working together sporadically in the new addition. Our opposing shifts make working together erratic at best.

Sometimes... the situation sucks, especially for quality time. Plus, Laura never writes. Oh, I get the once-in-awhile "the dog was very bad" note... or, the "I did or will you do" note... signed with a heart or an x-o... but, she doesn't write much... she CALLS instead. The phone is much more her thing, while I say that a good pen lashing may even her out!

A written word pays homage to moments. Like speaking, if it's on the fly in a sense, it's gone once it comes out - except that ink on the paper leaves a much more compelling stain in its wake... it's history the moment it's recorded.

With 10 hour days at the office, I arrive home about 2 hours after she leaves for work... where I talk to the animals - check the mail - the refrigerator - and usually... < of course >...

I work. < I'd be willing to bet that you knew that by now... >

But - did you know that:

Occasionally, I wander aimlessly plotting my next move...

...but WAIT, I guess it isn't really aimless, is it? How could it be? There's always a reason to plot...

we interrupt these cyberwords for yet another TRUE STORY!   >>>>

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.

.

>>>> at this very moment I felt a bug crawling on my wrist... so, I look down, and, when I do, I see a ladybug... and my instinct feeling this lil' thang crawlin' on me before I see it

- is to flick the ol' wrist - and, so I do...

...immediately I felt bad! Once I realized that this creature who - by the way, looked much more like the new VW beetle than the old...

...but then again, it kinda resembled a funny colored pith helmet

...or a halved melon

...could even be a witch's nose wart

...or, that weird register tape candy

< insert sharp smack sound >

BACK TO THE POINT: I felt bad about whipping the surprised < dontchathink? > ladybug onto the floor. So bad that I picked it up and let it walk across the keyboard < sure sign of a friend you know >

and soon, it crawls up onto the case and disappears into the darkness behind the computer...

...and now I wonder if it'll crawl inside the case to get warm. I wonder if it's gonna screw anything up... maybe even on purpose. In retaliation for my sending it hurtling to the wood floor.

And, then I laugh out loud at myself. I realize that I have tremendous capacity to become entirely aimless...

As I wander further into the abyss...

I had an ASTOUNDING revelation...

November 19th, 1998

Here I am again. An astonishing two days later...

...again, attempting to catch up after the last futile entry < or should I say, "entree" and simply move along to the next main course? >...

The BIG D < eparture > thang

Of course. You're chomping at the bit to know what's happening there, huh?

Well, sis had a delay in the job start as the utility company meter reader. She is now scheduled to begin the Monday after Thanksgiving . The delay is a result of an in-house snafu. Seems they didn't post the job for the insiders, and, there was internal interest expressed in the job. The woman who hired her felt "awful" < she said > about the situation, and, sis never did tell her that she had already quit the catering job a few days prior to that news. So WHAT did she do in the interim? She got another job working for a day care provider to get herself by...

about Mr. Moody

Her husband initially harassed her for sex on numerous occasions via the telephone - something that pissed her off completely: "as if!" and, it appeared to destroy any remaining pulverized bits of respect she had for him.

His calls are intermittent now and, usually take place after he's been drinking late at night. She isn't answering anymore. Nevertheless, he seems to be having a hard time. Perhaps he is seeing the big picture now - as in "NO pal, she ain't coming back"... because all signs point to BIG Depression where he is concerned...

Now, why would I say that? One reason is because Sis stopped out to his house last week to pick up warm coats and clothes that she had left behind. She knocked on the front door, and, when he opened it, she said "he literally stunk." She didn't go further than the porch < right where the items were thrown at her >.

I've never known Mr. Moody to have a BO problem - but, then again - I wasn't that close in proximity to him on most occasions. < In fact, I don't recall any aroma associated with him the day he crapped his pants... even so, it wouldn't be safe to assume his shit doesn't stink. >

As I've said previously, Mr. Moody has a dark, brooding personality type to begin with. In fact, it's so ingrained that the depression itself may be wrapped in strands of mutant DNA < which could be a very good reason to donate your body to science for further study >.

The wretched moody man has a known penchant for holiday depression. In fact, last Christmas was marred by an infantile outburst and his subsequent leaving alone - only to return sobbing hours later. A preposterous and strange scene.

Yet, I can say with clear conviction that the only GOOD thing about Mr. Moody making an ass out of himself last Christmas, was that it took the focus off what I feared could be the problem of the day: "our first Christmas without Dad." The bad mood dude enabled a focus exchange.

STILL - I cannot sit here and tell you that I haven't a shred of human compassion for this creature I've called my brother-in-law for several years. Not even when I can honestly say that I believe, that the man is "a bit bonkers." Unpredictable raging and screaming suicidal threats automatically put you in that category...

When I look at the picture of his life I see an illustration of sadness mottled with underlying self hatred. In the back of my mind I hope that his DNA doesn't really have anything to do with any of it... because I love his children far beyond simple utterances. I don't want them to suffer any genetic curse < or for that matter - curses of any type >.

But there's more here. Things obscured. Things blurred. Things that may come into ugly focus. Some things even acknowledged.

On a related note: Since our friend died by leaping from the rail of a bridge months ago, we are completely aware of the toll that bridge has taken despite the absence of toll booths. In the last month, two additional men have decided to duplicate his actions.

And, it's not yet the holidays, when despair becomes an ugly roommate for so many. Despairing spirits thinking "Merry Christmas my ass." Happy new year with a big middle finger. It isn't all glorious lighting displays, gifts and caroling...

...it isn't. Not for everyone.

But, no. We don't want Daddy jumping off the bridge...

Because...

We know that Daddies are important. . . . . .

Yep. We do. . .

. . .daddies are important even if they are messed up, grown up, little boys.

I know that when people are hurting inside, rage may be the second coming. Natural I suppose, since anger is generally hurt turned inside out... isn't it?

And then, there are little sisters. Some, who live on the edge. Some who appear to tempt fate...

...and you wonder what in the hell I am talking about now, huh?

...and, you know I will tell you as fast as you can comprehend your illuminated pixel display.

So, now where do I begin to explain this?

Hmmm... think about the feeling you have when you're watching a movie and the plot line moves into a pattern where you KNOW something is gonna happen, and, that something isn't good. It's the queasy uneasy moment...

... the one that leaves you feeling that the shit will soon be hitting the fan.

Got it?

Well... the sis who wastes no time, is already dating. And, she seems to be fairly close to the guy, too - as well as he is to her. Kissy close that is...

We met him a few weeks ago, too. Seems OK enough... you know - two hands, two legs and a head on his shoulders - and, he drives a great big 4 wheel drive truck. A manly man, you know? A hunter. Probably has a knife collection and dead animal trophies, too < ... know the type? >

From sis's description prior to meeting Mr. Man, I was expecting Sven from Sweden. An Icelandic version and larger than Mr. Man in real life - she said he was blond and "way bigger" than Mr. Moody. In reality, I didn't find Mr. Man to be that physically imposing anymore than I thought he was blond < as opposed to dark reddish blond >... but, who cares about that? He was fairly quiet, I was fairly tired, they didn't stay long and, when they left...

...he asked my sister if he "passed the test."

Hmmm... he didn't even get to the test phase, it was a simple introduction < evil laughter goes right here >. He's clearly on probation that could last a year or longer.

Circumstances aside, Laura and I have nothing against Mr. Man as a person. Especially since I don't know him after being around him for an hour. An hour in which, frankly, I was SO tired that I doubt if I could pick him out of a line up today.

While I think it may be WAY too early for sis to make alliances at this point; it is her life and she's gonna do what she wants. That's the way it is... That's the way it is with all of us... WE NEVER LISTEN... and, we don't learn much from the mistakes of others when it comes to relationships...

... BUT, there's a little sticking point here. One that has major implications.

What? WHAT? WHAT?

I know. My eyebrows did the same thing as yours just did. I guess that makes it a normal reaction...

Mr. Moody and Mr. Man went to school together. At one point they were rivals - over a woman no less. And, during that time period - Mr. Moody tried to run Mr. Man down with his car, breaking his pinky finger - which has been left in a state of permanent distortion < a distinguishing mark in any line up >.

Nothing personal against Mr. Man, but I told sis she should have "left the tribe" and all connections to Mr. Moody...

...you see, I have my opinion and I'm not afraid to use it. This is especially true if you are my sista and you don't wanna hear it.

...

..

.

Aye yi yi

>>>> Why in the hell do we ask for such trouble?

OH YEAH. I forgot...

...it's our heart that we follow. And we follow it around, unable to resist a lure - our biggest blinder to the senses < the ones we have that do make sense > - our heart opens up and swallows our brains.

November 24th, 1998

Another day, another fifty cents.

The kinky handymadam?? Nah. It wasn't THAT much fun really... I was drywalling - hanging rock. Sheetrock, that is. Nothing kinky about it. To "hang" a sheet of drywall means you fasten it < with screws or ring shank nails > to the framing members underneath. "Mudding" the sheet covers the fasteners and smooths out < or adds texture to > the surface of a wall.

Sis came out and cooked dinner here Saturday. A very nice surprise! And, good to have company while Laura worked, too. Yeah.

I had planned < in my head > to get this posted during the weekend - but, it didn't happen. My best laid plans are keeping me occupied. Here I exist in a reality that is a virtual hands-on, all consuming time sucker...

...and I'm secretly loving the experience and enjoying the blossoming phenomenon before me.

I'm always surprised.

Because... Around here... there's always something to do...