Tongues Talk Fire And Eyes Cry Rivers

Entry 1    8:48 PM

The World's No Place When You're On Your Own


I am sitting here, dogs at my feet, fan blowing on me, music blaring, blissfully alone.  Jenny is off visiting a friend. Abby is driving around alone, bored on a Saturday night. Leiney is in the basement on her phone, after a long day of door knocking.  Given the dearth of interesting and original things to say, emanating from this keyboard, I am contemplating changing the name of this site to the Jejeune Journal.  

Jenny has been in a shit mood off and on since Thursday.  She doesn't apologize, but she does acknowledge it.  I got a text from her this morning telling me she is in a better mood.  Last night was ridiculously silly.  I mean bonkers.  She was on her phone as we were sitting on the sectional, far apart as usual, when she tells me that two people were hit by a Sound Transit Link train yesterday in the Rainier Valley.  The places people cross have big bright flashing lights in the shape of a train to warn people when a train is coming, so I was a bit perplexed.  I said, I wonder if they were drunk or high.  That was it.  That is all I said.  Madame Wokeness went into a fury, and while she stopped short of calling me a racist piece of shit, did say, "I think its offensive you would ever make such an assumption."  I cocked my head, and denied making any assumption, at all.  "I was just trying to understand how that could happen."  I pointed out to her that when they were planning the train I thought it was complete bullshit that they were putting the train above ground in the poor neighborhoods full of people of color. Why I felt the need to defend myself, I dunno.  Madame Wokeness announced immediately that she was going to bed, got up and repaired to her chambers.  I did not object.  Both my kids witnessed this, both later told me they were baffled.  Back in her chamber, I am sure she was in deep consultation with El Pinché Motherfucker thereafter, because, well, it was that time of night, and time to bitch about me (bebitching time), a great sport of which and in which I know they engage.  

This afternoon Jenny told me that it was two elderly people that were hit by the train.  I knew it had to be something.  It would have been my second guess.  They really need to put up barriers so that can't happen.  I'd like to figure out a barrier so Jenny doesn't make assumptions about me.  Hmmmm. .   .

The old pattern resumes.  Jenny felt good for the first time since Thursday's chemo, and left.  She announced that she was leaving, and then when she was preparing her exit, said to me, "Are you sure its ok if I go?" "You never asked me before you announced it, I just assumed you were going." Truth be told, given her mood the last two nights, I welcome it.  

It's ridiculous petty shit that is eating me these days.  Back when we shared a bed, she had her side and I had mine.  I didn't fully appreciate this until I tried to mix it up on a trip somewhere.  She was having none of it.  We sit in the same spaces when we eat too.  Tonight, we got takeout. Jenny suggested we eat at the picnic table. I grabbed her food, my food, and took it out to the picnic table, which I then promptly cleaned off.  I was dusting off her usual seat when she sat down where I normally sit.  I naively said, "I thought we sit in the same place every time."  "I'm not moving," she said.  I said, "cool" and took a seat on the opposite side of the table.  "I still want to sit by you," she said.  "Oh, I get it, you're punishing me, again."  I wasn't.  But I had no desire to sit by her when she is being, well, not nice.  

And then dinner ended, I went and addressed some chore or other, and she continued the thing she was doing.  We then planned our August trip to Oregon with the kids. Going to the Oregon dunes is on her bucket list, and we are thus going.  And suddenly, planning completed, all was fine.  Jenny, as pleasant as can be, announces she is leaving to go to see a friend.  It was like nothing ever happened, like she'd always been as even keeled as she was at that instant. She offered to take the puppy, who spends almost all its waking and sleeping hours with me, and I told her I would prefer to keep the sweet thing.  

Who knows and who cares where she really is, I just can't care.  What I know is, we have a
I still have Speed Racer dreams.

new home, with an ADU, which will generate rental income,  a gorgeous home with solar and a heat pump, with a manicured lawn and personal greenbelt, on almost an acre--.83 to be exact.   I will have my own room, and abandon the sectional, which I suppose means I need to buy a bed.  I wonder if her billionaire friend will send me a handmade mattress?  I'd settle for this number from Wayfair.

I can be a dick. Anyone can. If you spend any amount of time with me, I will at some point annoy the fuck out of you.  But, if I'm a dick and I realize it or you tell me, I apologize.  And I try not to be a dick.  What I don't do is acknowledge my dicktitude by saying, I'm sure in a better mood today, as a kind of crypto-apology.  I am tired.  Just tired.  Looking forward to elbow room.
The yellow line shows the property boundary.  Maybe we get goats? That is a lot of lawn.

                                                                                                    
I drove out to Kent yesterday to pay the earnest money.  That was a crazy check to write.  I hope I never have to write a check that large ever again.  Also, its about the second check I've actually written in 5 years.

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