I said in my recent post about our moving that plans would change. And they have. My sister has decided that she needs to take care of her children, and is looking for a place for the three of them, with out little ol’ me. Now, I understand this, and I applaud her for chooseing her kids over all else–she is a great mother, always has been, and her children (while raging smart-asses, both of them!) adore her. Isn’t this what a parent is supposed to do? Take care of their kids, sacrifice, all that stuff? I’d do the same, if I had any kids. So I am happy that my sister is a good mom, and will get her a big badge, or a bumper sticker or something as soon as I can. But….I am now stuck wondering what to do with myself.
Both of my parents have approached me with reminders that I can come and live with them, because there is always a place for me in their home. Yippee. I’ll get to spend the rest of my life in another tiny room, with the too-loud sounds of Fox News and whatever sports event is on drifiting in, trying to pretend that this is the life I want. Nope.
I was so hoping for some kind of actual change, but it looks as if I’m not gonna get one. Other than the color of the walls, I’ll be in pretty much the same place; More than likely, most of my belongings will remain boxed and in a garage or storage shed somewhere, unused and gathering dust. My big beautiful bookcase will remain empty and lonely, all the books in boxes. And forget about my having my own bathroom; this time around, I get to share everything with a pair of senior citizens.
Guess it’s a good thing I don’t have any semblance of a social life, huh? Bringing a guy back to an apartment I shared with my sister and an 11-year-old would have been difficult enough. I wouldn’t even consider it in a home I share with my parents. Complete celibacy for me. Another thing that isn’t changing.
I’m depressing myself again. I sure hope nobody out there reads this looking for uplifting, inspirtational posts, because these days, I ain’t got those in me.