Saturday, December 8, 2018

Merry is not the operative word

Saturday.  Weekends are becoming the worst days ever.  Larry was home weekends.  Saturday was also a morning in bed, then on to chores or errands, and sometimes a drive.  This Saturday, I cannot stop crying.  I am Not Having a Good Day. I miss him, I miss our home.  This house, empty and alone, is not home enough.  But is is all I have. 

Yesterday afternoon I had lunch at Tona's with another recent widow.  It was nice to get out, we talked about our spouses.  It was pleasant.  I did not cry.  I came home and went to bed early, watched some recorded TV.  Deleted all the Dr. Who.  I just didn't care to watch it.  I am bored with myself, frustrated that I cannot banish grief. 

Got a letter from Lonny.  I will write back, but not today.  Today sucks.

I got out my little address book.  I want to send holiday cards.  They're all so fucking cheerful, I cannot stand it.  I feel sick to my stomach.  Merry?  Happy?  Joyous?  No, that is simply not so.  Not this year.  Larry never paid attention to cards, coming or going.  I'd read the occasional newsletter to him, and show him any pictures, but he was not into it. Meh.  I was, but declined the years I was ill.  Now?  I want to reach out, but it is literally making me want to throw up.  Dammit.

I'm entering a new terrain of tears.  The lows are becoming very, very low.  I will ride it out, but this fun ride is so much not fun at all.  Worst rollercoaster ever. No actual rollercoaster has made me want to puke, but this Emotional Ride is working overtime.   A closed loop. 

I think I need a cup of tea, but that will make me cry too. 

Thursday, December 6, 2018

The Meatloaf of Sadness

Determined to use the meat in the deep freeze, I thawed a ground turkey chub and a pack of ground pork for a meatloaf.  I have not been cooking much, so this was a big step.  Big is the operative word.  That was three pounds of meat, plus oatmeal, dried onions, an egg, and tons of herbs and spices, topped with a mustard balsamic gravy mix.  Yummy, but now it sits in the fridge in two containers. Every time I open the fridge, it smells of meaty goodness.  

Why is this sad?  Because that is a LOT of meatloaf.  Probably more than I can eat before it gets old and stale. Larry would have made sandwiches from it.  I guess I will need to vac-seal and freeze some in single portions.  Is this defeating the whole use up the frozen stuff plan?  I still have frozen tamales from a few weeks ago.

The fireplace insert is already here.  That was fast.  I worry because the box looks a little rough.  Very heavy, I could barely get it in the door.  I got some laundry done and folded.  I need to change the sheets, and to vacuum.  I need to make yogurt, to pack up some jewels and stones for a friend, to actually do the Ancestry DNA kit. Put the solar lights in the box, but the wheelcovers on the trailer tires.  I am exhausted though, lethargic.  Encased in amber which lets in dim light, but allows no movement or progress.  I hate being alone and lonely.  No one else will do, people are a welcome distraction, but no replacement for Larry in my life. 

Tuesday, December 4, 2018

Snow falls

I knew I'd missed the weather window for roof lights.  We had a light and fluffy snowfall.  Most of the sidewalks and roads are clear, but the roof has a lovely little blanket.  I cannot find the indoor window lights.  Not a clue where they have been stashed.

Had a wonderful scare with a gas leak.  After shoveling the snow, I could smell gas when I went back in the house, very strong.  I made sure the flu was open and went outside.  Dominion Energy came out, and the guy checked everything.  Turns out the fireplace insert is broken at one end.  Joy.  I was able to order one from Lowe's, military discount and all, free delivery. Still, over $200.  Colby will put in in.  The stove had a leak too, but the DE guy was able to fix it.  I gave him a couple mini-bottles.  At least I was able to clean behind the stove.

I got my Secret Santa package in the mail.  I sure hope they enjoy it!  I went a little heavy on the Jurassic Park theme.  Life, uh, finds a way.

Feeling ... calmer?  More resigned?  I still have very bad moments, and I do not think I will ever stop missing him.  I just cry less.  I still mope a lot.  This still sucks.

Friday, November 30, 2018

A little this and that, bits and bobs/

I went to the mall to shop for Reddit Secret Santa, as most of my giftee's like can be found in places such as Hot Topic. Sweets you say?  See's Candy, most assuredly, as they have nice little gift boxes and presents.  One of the See's ladies, in her crisp white uniform with the black bows, remarked she had not seen me in a while.  Yeah, no, you have not.  Of course I had to tell the Sad News.  She came and hugged me, and told me how much he loved me, and that they;d been talking about him.  Of course they had, he always made quite the impression.  Weird to stand in a crowded candy shop getting a big warm hug from the candy lady.  So now See's is Sad Chocolate.

Not that I'll give it up.

Other bits and bobs include getting the 401K into a good IRA, one which will pay out nicely because it is indexed, with a variety of protections.  Another chunk of change went into a product I call a reverse life insurance policy.  I give them money, they put it in where it might or might not earn interest but cannot decrease, and pay me a monthly stipend.  When it is gone, it is gone.  If I die, they get it.  Another product is like and indexed CD/personal retirement fund.  It earns a bonus every year I do not touch it, and compounds on that.  This keeps it safe until I need it in a few years, and it grows.  Once I start taking payouts, it keeps paying out until I die, even if I exceed what originally went in.  Perfect at my age.  I still have money in savings and the money market, I have my three little incomes, and a nice normal CD.  I should be okay.  Mostly I wanted my money tucked away from scammers, leeches, and greedy buggers.

Went to the credit union and got an explanation why they're taking so long to remove Larry from the accounts.  He had an IRA, so they cannot take him off until the end of the tax year.  That would have been nice to know.

And in mundane boring news, I got the glass storage shelves arranged.  Larry kept glass jars, so out they went.  I have several flats of canning jars in assorted sizes.  Lots of glass vases and bottles and canisters.  A big glass cake dome, some stockpots, more wax, the china, the flatware, the holiday stuff up on the top shelf.  All nicely arranged.  Kinda sorta.  Now I can move on the laundry and more of the wretched excess.  This all included bringing up the Spode cookie jar and teapots and ornaments for the baker's rack.  I also have Spode teacups, and mugs, and plates, and bowls, and use them every winter.  Not this year.  It just doesn't feel merry and bright.  Not right. The dated plate and ornaments made me cry.  2011, he was alive.  2012.  2001 Our First Christmas in the house.  Except is was 2000.  Still.  I wanted the decorations up, but damn, this first holiday is Not a Happy Holiday.

I didn't get the stockings out either.  Merry Fucking Christmas, huh?

Monday, November 26, 2018

Have a Relatively Pleasant Continued Existence.

I began the day in tears.  Sleep had come and gone, dreams were strange.  The insurance on the truck is an iffy thing as I do not have a license, and the driver is not a resident of this household.  Larry's name is not off all accounts and I dread correspondence addressed to him.  I messaged a friend, and saw the last  conversation we had about prepping for Burning Man, Larry's neck pain and potential pneumonia.  That was mere days before I took him to the ER and they discovered the mass.  I went downstairs to get the Spode Christmas tree cookie jar and teapots, and discovered two printers which I thought had gone to the dumpster.  A box of Christmas glasses and mugs which Larry was going to make into candles.  The leaves outside always break my heart.  So many little paper cuts on my heart.

A dear friend lost her beloved cat in some sort of freak accident.  Devastating.  He was a lovely creature, loving and universally loved.  My heart aches for her.

But I got the norens up, and the garlands with them, and a few more bows.  Did the kitty litter and a red table cloth in the front room. Ate a hot lunch of chicken and a baked yam, yes, with my excellent cranberry sauce.  Received a lovely little Moon pendant as part of a gift exchange, a holiday card, and a commission for a leather tool roll.  Had a nice long phone conversation with another local widow who is only six weeks out.  I am calmer, if not happier.

Ordered an external hard drive.  Excellent deal, but I really shouldn't be buying things.  Ah well.

Three in the afternoon, I gave in to the call of a hot bath, and having a nice cuppa in my flannel nightgown.  Everything can wait.

How does one end a conversation with someone bereaved?  Have a nice day doesn't cut it.  I think I said "Have a relatively pleasant continued existence".  Hah.  I cannot even quote myself.

Sunday, November 25, 2018

Blackout Holiday and the Missing Routine.

Widows do not get roof lights.  No one wants to climb on the roof, except for one person.  He lives at the other end of the valley, and is detoxing for alcohol.  He is in no shape to drive north and climb a ladder.  So.  I will try to get the ornaments and bells out for under the eaves, and the lights for inside the windows, but there will not be a net on the swamp cooler to make it look like a present, no LED strands along the roof ridges, not light up garland under the eaves, no great big sparking stars, no Bright Ball of Wow.  Nope. 

Today is Sunday.  We would have woke up, had coffee, turned on the TV to Sunday Morning.  He would have made breakfast in bed for us.  Then morning sex with the classic rock station on the TV.  Put on a meal in the crockpot.  Sort the newspaper ads, clip the coupons, read the funnies to each other.  Go to the commissary.  Maybe Michaels and Lowes.  Maybe lunch somewhere, then we'd come home and he'd putter around the yard.  The firepit would be going.  Maybe he'd be helping me put up the decorations indoors, maybe I'd be helping him put up the ones in front of the house.  He'd work outside for far too long, until after dark.  Maybe fix the roof to the Buddha house.  Wrap the trunks of the tiny Japanese maples.  Winterize the veggie garden.  Fill the twitter bird feeder.  I'd be putting clean sheets on the bed.  Maybe painting.  Fussing and futzing.

The leaves would all be up and mulched.  The gutters would be clear.  The Burning Man stuff  would not still be underfoot.  The fireplace would be warming the basement.

We would eat dinner in the recliners, he'd catch up on his shows while I dozed beside him. 

And that's what Sunday should be. 

It is not.  I got up at four in the morning, because why not? Fed the cats and started coffee.   I did bake some cornbread for breakfast because I am out of bread for toast.  Got the papers and found one worthwhile coupon.  It's in a pile with the others from last week.  Watched a little TV on the laptop, but did not turn on the bedroom set at all.  Looked at FB and Reddit.  Got showered and dressed.  Cried some.  Scooped the cat box.  Sat in the front room and stared out the picture window.  Cried some more.  Worked on the kitchen decor.  More crying.  Sorted some paperwork.  That annoyed me.  Then moe kitchen stuff.  Cried when I found our framed Christmas photo.  Zapped a bean and cheese burrito, ate it with homemade cranberry sauce.  No one to share the sauce with.  No one wants it.  No one wants me. 

I still have the high shelf and the baker's rack in the kitchen to go, as well as put away the pumpkin teapot and squash pictures, and get the Spode out. Then there's the tree.  Steam and mop the kitchen floor, and get out the Christmas rugs.  And the white lace noren and the garlands, and the shower curtain, and a tablecloth.  I will do it too.  May take two days.

This sucks so much.  So very, very much.

Saturday, November 24, 2018

Falling like leaves around my ankles.

I do not think of myself as strong.  I saw the word "resilient" and that's the one.  I keep going.  I am sad and distraught and I want to scream and tears appear seemingly at random, brought on by the most trivial things, but I keep ticking.  Not quickly, slow and up and down, but onward.  There is nothing else.

I finally cooked a dinner for myself.  I mistimed it and ate the baked sweet potato while the chicken was cooking, but it was okay.  Taking out the foil to line the pan made me cry.  Larry used foil in the camp stove.  I wonder how much he has stashed away. 

The final DFAS check came in, the "arrears" one.  And that is that. 

The backyard is full of leaves again, now leaves which have an inch of snow on top.  Larry would not have let that happen.  The front gutter still drips.  I have half a useless freezer taking up space out back. 

Colby is coming to fix the furnace this afternoon.  I know he'll give me a fair price, but money scares me.  So much. 

America First is addressing everything to Howard. I thought we took care of that.  Damn. 

There's a couple charges on the Visa.  Trying to decide if I need to pay or screw them.  I am thinking screw them.  I'm screwed because I can't get that card in my name.  Thanks a fucking lot.

There may be roof lights tomorrow.  We shall see if promises are kept, if people show up.  I have doubts.  So many good intentions falling like the maple leaves out back, shriveled and yellowed.

Onward, because I have nowhere else to go.