Egads, even farther behind… Oh, well. The last couple of days, for some reason, I felt really sleepy really early. I may not have gone to bed before 10PM, physically, but I think my brain did. ***rolls eyes***
Currently sitting in a Satanbucks (as one of my friends called it ages ago) but not on their wi-fi. It’s been a long time since I’ve used my phone as a tethered internet connection, but it’s why I bought the phone and the plan I did…on the day I drove away from my house for the last time. Last time in the sense it suddenly wasn’t mine anymore, anyway. But I’m sure I’ve mentioned all that before so I don’t want to repeat it. So. Sitting in Satanbucks, looking out the window at a construction site.
I’m here because I have an appointment to get my hair done (and for some reason it seems to need it more than it did at the time of my last appointment, even though I don’t think it’s been any longer between appointments) and have gotten into the habit of leaving my place much earlier than necessary so I can stop off here for coffee and oatmeal before my appointment. Not that I can’t eat breakfast at home, but I find it actually makes it more difficult for me to get out of the house on time if I start anything that feels like a day off. Since I generally (that is, never) eat breakfast at home on a weekday, doing so makes my brain default to “WEEKEND!!!”of which a subroutine is “NOWHERE I HAVE TO BE!”
Obviously not the case when I have to take two buses to get to my stylist. 🙂
Anyway. Looking out the window at a construction site. Two stories and a bit of framing that implies either a third story or some kind of rooftop amenity. From the sign on the fence surrounding the site (seen on previous walks from here to my stylist’s, of course, since even though my eyes are good they aren’t that good), it’s going to be a dozen or so luxury apartments with retail space on the ground floor. The first time I read that, I looked around the neighborhood — small businesses, chain hamburger joint, chain liquor store, chain market (that might have closed already) — and I wondered who exactly they thought was going to be renting a luxury apartment…
I’m sure the walls are some sort of engineered wood sheets, but it looks like particleboard from here and that also doesn’t say “luxury” to me, but I lived 40 years in a place built of 8-inch-thick, steel-reinforced concrete block — which was the only way it could support either the original concrete-tile roof or the full-weight tile roof I replaced the original with.
I really really liked that place. In my daydreams about lottery wins, I build a new house out of concrete block. (Not me personally, don’t be silly — not a builder!) Although I don’t quite know where, since this city (broadly defined) where I’ve lived my whole life doesn’t feel like home anymore.
It hasn’t in a while. I don’t know but that it started not feeling like home before things started actively going to crap.
Obviously that bit was written several hours ago, but the feeling is the same now as it was then, as it’s been for I honestly don’t know how long. I really do wonder when this stopped feeling like home, but it doesn’t much matter in the long run, does it? Sufficient to say I feel displaced in this as I have in so much of my life in the last few years — this time four years ago, quite literally at this time, I was on a cot in a church basement with an itchy, too-short blanket as my only cover, my car parked in the gated lot behind the church, using my purse wrapped in my sweater as my pillow and with the case holding my laptop under the head end of the cot…with one leg of the cot through the handles and the shoulder strap wrapped around the frame.
Scared shitless someone was still going to find a way to divest me of my laptop, which might very well have broken me, considering how important it was both as a job-search tool and a lifeline to my friends via email or the Book of Face. Scared I was going to wind up sleeping in my car permanently. Scared that even if I got an interview I wouldn’t have any way of making myself presentable enough to get in the door before being judged unworthy of the opportunity and sent packing.
I was scared a lot then. Sometimes things still feel scary, but it’s a good kind of scary now. For which I am infinitely grateful.