Safe Havens and Craziness.......

For the 3rd day in a row, I am isolated in my bedroom. I am not depressed, in the least. How nice to be able to say that honestly.

The isolation started the other day when I was somewhat banished from the living room where the main computer “lives” as the carpet was being cleaned and it has evolved into a quiet escape that I am thoroughly enjoying. I view it as a comfortable place to just be as opposed to hanging out in the living room, where I can easily observe the messes made by my teenager; a lazy sort of tornado who leaves destruction in her path as she moves from place to place.

This overwhelmed and inept mother still has a hard time with setting limits, expectations and the resultant confrontation, so it’s often easier to sigh and ignore it. Maybe during the night the housekeeping Gods will take mercy on my humble abode. It’s not likely, but one can hope. I dream of the times when Ab was in boarding school and my house was nearly spotless. Ahhhhh! Those were the days!

The kids pop in once in awhile to ask a question or two, or provide me with an update on something concerning life beyond these safe walls. I think they like it as much as I do. I take my meager meals in here and then shuffle downstairs occasionally with a stack of dirty dishes in hand, placing them among those already on the counter or stacked in the sink. Frankly, I don’t care. Obviously, they don’t either. Out of sight, out of mind. It works for me. I believe I was an ostrich in a former life. That, and a very ineffective school teacher, with an out of control class room. I probably attempted to teach English. I’ve always loved English.

So, I sit here in my room with just about everything I need. I have a comfy bed with an extra thick memory foam mattress topper that keeps my ample fanny from experiencing circulation problems as I sit here propped up with double memory foam pillows cushioning my back rest.

I have my trusty lap top, a television with DVR capabilities, assorted snacks that I have hidden here from the people who inhabit this place and their constant marijuana munchies and wonderful stacks of books, paper, pens and highlighters nestled beside the luxurious body pillow on the “passenger” side of my bed. My latest read…White Oleander, by Janet Fitch, serves as a mouse pad at my left side, when I am not devouring every word between it’s shiny paper covers.

As I sit cocooned here on the bed, I visualize and make a comparison to an odd character in town; a retired catholic priest who drives an old boat of an American car, which is filled with massive amounts of assorted paperwork. He is literally cocooned with what looks like a lifetime of trash and mail that rises shoulder high, giving him just enough room to make his way into the driver’s seat. I can’t help wonder what his home looks like and decide that he’s a danger to himself and others. One sudden need to brake and that mountain of paperwork will surely become an avalanche and cause him to wreck. God help us all. Is anyone concerned but me?

I decide to make a neater pile of my books and paperwork.

I may just stay in here. Or I may just move into my condo in Tennessee. ALONE. I haven’t yet decided. Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind. I know of someone who did that just to get away from her children. She left them in the house and moved, with no forwarding address.

Damn it. I just realized, mine would know how to find me!

Plan B is in the works.

But, right now...Ab's bringing me a piece of pizza for lunch!

Life is good.