Ennui, Anomie, Und Schadenfreude--3 Of My Favorite Words. What A Jerk.

Entry 1    10:27 a.m.

Just before our love got lost you said,
"I am as constant as a northern star."
And I said, "Constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I will be in the bar."

-from "A Case of You" by Joni Mitchell

Tuesday 

Two days away from chemotherapy.  I am wondering, as always, what that will bring.  CA 19-9, the cancer antigen/marker measurement, usually isn't done every week.  But I have a sneaking suspicion that this will now change, given the last reading.  Jenny seems remarkably healthy, off this morning to school, ostensibly to visit with her principal.  Ostensibly.  

Life is so disjointed in this time. Everything is up in the air, everything unclear.  COVID-19 alone would have screwed me up, but all the transitions, the shift or shifts in thinking and expectation(s), the loss of narrative thread.  Who am I, even?  Who the fuck are you? 

I thought I gave up angst as a teenager. I had mastered it, feeling sorry for my lot in the world then was peak, it was gold medal worthy. This alienation is different, now, though. I don't feel sorry for myself, and it isn't like an anxiety disorder. I know where I am, who I am. I just don't feel I have a place to fit. I go through the motions every single day, but it is wrote.  I would say it takes effort, but I don't even expend real energy.  I can't get anywhere without a motor, but even with a motor, I would just turn in circles. Again, this isn't melancholy or self-pity.  I am just at a point where everything feels like autopilot on a cruise ship stuck on Lake Tapps.  If I jump off into the water, I will end up knee deep in goose shit.  So, instead, I just keep going round and round, nothing to look at, feeling neither excitement nor dread, happiness or sadness.  Time, meanwhile, actually marches on, its pace unimpeded by my stuckness. I am in a marriage that is a sham, a job that is a job, not a passion or even that interesting, kids who are self-sufficient and leading their own lives, thankfully.  
We liked all three houses we saw over the weekend.  The first one had a decidedly ramshackle house next to it, and that made me nervous for a host of reasons, too mundane and obvious to list. Then we got the inspection report, one that didn't contain the owners' abatement plans to address faults found by the inspector.  We checked, they had no plans to do abatement. There weren't many fixes, but rats were a problem.  If you could see the house next store, you'd understand. I
have dealt with rats a lot since returning to Seattle from NYC, and think they are more ubiquitous here than there.  But, I don't want that fight right now.  Also, the current owners' last name is Willard.  So, fuck that.  The second home we looked at was lovely, but upon reflection, not a good fit.  We are going to the 3rd home again tonight, having agreed last night it was the one to bid upon.  Jenny is now having second thoughts.  Closet space concerns. A decision this big deserves another look.  But, I am worried Ground Hog Day may be upon us.  Not a big fan of rodents.
Entry 2    12:58 p.m.

My loan agent called. Says the house will go for 1 million, and she wrote the preauthorization letter for a million. I realize that is only 50k more than I am prepared to offer, but Jenny will never agree. I am eligible for much more, she said.  Insane.  Insane.
This market makes 2006 look rational.


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