In the span of a week I've devolved back to appalling sleeping patterns. Mum and I are both night owls to begin with, and mum has been plowing through a series of books by Alexander McCall Smith, and like me will stay awake half the night playing the "I'll just finish this chapter" game...I picked up a couple of books to read, The End of Mr Y, by Scarlett Thomas, and The Information, by Martin Amis, both of which appear to offer all the necessary components of a v. good read, but unfortunately, I can't concentrate on anything for more than 5 minutes and instead seem to have decided to while away my 2 weeks here watching every episode of Law and Orders SVU and Criminal Intent ever made...seriously, if they play 4 episodes in a row, I will gladly stay up until 4am watching them. Constructive, I know.
I did get out for a bike ride today, finally. Did maybe 5 miles, which damn near killed me since in mapping my route I didn't consider the big fuck off San Francisco-esque hill I was going to encounter. Hudson has hills, Chicago does not (with the exception of the occasional highway overpass) even on my dads bike with the 8 million gears I was still completely knackered by the time I got home. I took a few pictures, they're on my Flickr if you're interested.
Yesterday Mum informed me she's going to buy graves for herself and my father. Now although this has been something I've told her she needs to get in order, since as an only child all the responsibility would fall on me to make arrangements and I can say with assurance that upon the passing of either of my parents, I will be rendered a complete emotional airline disaster, certainly not capable of choosing boxes, or places to plant them. Anyway, Mum then asked if I would like her to get *me* one. I declined, not for any reason relating to being creeped out, I've never feared death, only what prefaces it..but I certainly have no inclination whatsoever to be buried in Hudson....my point being, although this is something I want taken care of, in light of recent events, it was a conversation I could have done without.
Clearly, The Trouble with being here with entirely too much time on my hands is it gives me way too much time to crawl around in my own head and open carefully sealed boxes I've tucked into the recesses of my mind, consequently unleashing a world of worry about stuff I generally wouldn't give much thought to since I'm too busy trying to get by. I need to get a real job, and the toy company can have all the good intentions in the world, but I don't see them hiring me full time any time soon, if ever...I'd like to find a nice boy to spend time with, but my schedule doesn't allow socializing and when I do I seem to find these damaged en who are lovely but toxic and I'm too old and smart enough to know better...Patrick's death has also weighed heavily on me... I just can't seem to wrap my head around the
staggering unfairness of it...
This post seems a little bleak, it really isn't...Chalk it up to the aforementioned too much time on my hands. I'm gonna go watch M*A*S*H at an earsplitting volume with Mum and a nice glass of Makers.
