“Storage War” #68

Posted on October 11, 2011



I woke up with a runny nose and lack of sleep.  The dusty clutter from the hoarding in the house is getting to me.

[Paragraph deleted]

It has been harder for me to write my blog.  My father sees me on the computer and the barrage of questions come.  Last week, during Rosh Hashanah, my parents went to synagogue and ran into one of my old school friends who told them she knows all about my life because of Facebook.  It incited my father to be even angrier with me because I’ve denied his “Friend Request.”  I told him I need my privacy and that parents shouldn’t be “Friends” with their kids on Facebook.  He doesn’t care.  He wants to know everything that’s going on.  He wants control over everyone.  He doesn’t want to be dissed.

I said, “I’m sorry, I…”

“Well, you can move out this weekend.  Case closed.”

“You’re a big bully tyrant,” I said in my head.

I’ve been feeling stressed out.  I used to have such big plans for my life.  And now, I’m not sure what even next week holds.  Except, I’m much older, so it’s no longer cute.  This publisher who was supposedly interested in turning my blog into a book was quite lackadaisical about manifesting a meeting, so I got aggressive.  I wanted to scream, “Let’s make this f-ing book already.  I need to get out of here, you understand?”  I succeeded in scoring a meeting with them on Thursday in the city.

I am excited about this, but I am also perturbed by the quagmire of insanity that encompasses me daily.  It reached a boiling point when I awoke this morning with a runny nose in the tool shed known as my house.  The contents of this storage unit that my father bidded on and acquired are all over this house – when it was already a dumping ground to begin with!

I knew I needed to get the hell out of this house and get to the library.  I’ve been spending way too much time at Starbucks – because a Pumpkin Spice Latte provides me with just a little bit of heaven in this ever-expanding hell known as my life.  A sweet treat, a piece of cake, my pen and notebook…and I feel like everything is all right.

Only thing is I recently got some blood work done (first in 5 years), and they told me my liver was slightly out of balance and I am borderline pre-diabetic because of my blood sugar levels.  My quest for sanity via hazelnut lattes and whip cream is doing me in.  My escape through Appletinis and Cranberry Vodkas is driving the nail in.

So, today, all I asked for was a ride to the library.  Three hours later, finally…here I am…in quiet solitude, at my own desk by the window, soaking in this peace like a thirsty man in the desert – while my parents venture to the mall to return a toilet seat they bought with a coupon.

These days, my fuse is short, my patience limited, my basket of hope, shrinking.  I pray to a God I hardly talk to anymore these days that my meeting on Thursday goes well.  That my work will be launched into the greater atmosphere, touching people but also returning to me the resources needed to return to my own apartment in the city.

Right now, in this moment, at the public library, I am at peace.  About fifty feet away from me is an older man attached to an oxygen tank, placed in front of a table of books.  No doubt he was left there by a fed up relative or caretaker.  I would go say hi to him, but my own self needs saving first.  Also, he’s sleeping.

Yes, I breathe in and out, and there is peace in my soul…for now.  I am able to put pen to paper.  I am happy.  I am a writer, writing.  And for that, I am very lucky.

Posted in: Humor, Life