Plan for the Good

The dog sleeps, but the cats zoom around like they're collecting necklaces at Mardi Gras...

Thank god I have a therapy appointment today, although I will have to work like crazy to do my homework for it. I am not stable, the neurontin has set me into a swing of some kind, and right now, I am headed down, down, down.

Ok. For the haters out there, not any of you, I love the new Prince George of Cambridge. It's fun to read about him, and it doesn't diminish the plight of starving children all over the globe to enjoy his birth, and subsequent eating and pooping. The monarchy of Great Britain is fun to watch, folks. Sheesh.

Anyway, I drink iced coffee this morning, and try desperately to think of a topic. Time for more coffee. I woke late today. Hold on...

Of course, inspiration is all around me, it always is. And it's not like I need inspiration to write. If I did, I would never have started, 3 years ago. 3 years ago: Just out of jail, my Mother dead by a few months, and Eddie about to pass. I suppose I wrote out of sheer desperation.

In a way, I still do. I have to have this time of communication every morning; it's almost just like prayer and meditation to me, now.

It's overcast with clouds this morning, and it is light outside, although I cannot see the sun. The flagstones out front are dark with rain, and birds that like to sing in the rain, are singing. It is very quiet, even at this late hour, just past dawn.

The very grass is still and waits for the storm that may come today. But I have woken late, and I have therapy, and an AA meeting today, later on. Which is a very good thing. The dead and the dying were quiet yesterday. I did not dream of my parents. The drunk that calls me did not call, but his messages sound terrible. He has been a week out of the hospital and it sounds as if he is drinking again, although he says he is not.

The drunk that lives nearby is in a rage with me: I will not give him a ride to the store to buy beer, nor will I buy it for him. My sponsor and my therapist have been urging this course of action on me for a while now. And it's time I bit the bullet. He is like a terrible child in his rages, and it is very unpleasant to hear him scream obscenities at me.

But, I cannot expose myself to a 12 pack of beer each morning, anymore, and truly, he is so unpleasant that I am losing the pity that motivates me to give him a ride anywhere. He has peed in my car before, out of spite, and I lost a good deal of patience with him, then. Yesterday, when I refused to pick him up some beer on my way out and about, he called his sister, a friend of mine, to complain about me. I did not know that I could be arrested for not buying him beer, although that was threatened. He is past the beginning stages of 'wet brain,' and is delusional and filled with grandeur. His liver and heart refuse to cooperate with his drinking schedule, and his legs are grossly swollen, and his stomach is distended.

I know, it much more refreshing to deliberate on the field and the forest before breakfast, but this is my world.  All my friends tell me to move, but there is the greenway right outside my door. My animals are welcomed here, and have a safe place to run. The apartment is by no means small, and yet the price is right. It is easy to maintain. It is very close to Downtown, but I have a view, everyday. I live on the quietest of streets...

Too, if I move, how do I know I will better my situation? Something is bound to be not perfect wherever I go, so I stay and deal with the devil I know, rather than the unknown.

The dog sniffs to go out, it will be time for that soon, and I am on my second cup of coffee. It looks to be cooler today, and the rain notwithstanding, I plan to have a glorious day...