Searchin’ For Light In The Darkness Of Insanity

We were almost in the clear regarding my last post. Just before Turtle©️ typically gets here, both Loverboy®️ and Starlet®️ left in their respective vehicles. Hence leaving F-No.2®️ alone.

10:30, nothing. 11:00, nothing. At 11:30 The Wife™️ and I went to bed, still nothing.

Then it happened, at 12:35AM I could hear somebody getting a ride to Pound Town. Then again at 2:05. By 2:30, The Wife™️ went to the sofa. Then I proceeded to have some strange dreams.

Once more at 3:30, then again I fairly certain somewhere around 5:00…then F-No.2®️ left for work. The car that Turtle©️ drives is still here. Do you see a pattern with this? I do. I’m beginning to think that F-No.2®️ is a younger sister of Loverboy®️. Which begs the question, why would anyone want to have sex in the same bed as your sibling? Eewwww.

Loverboy®️ came home at 8:00 as we left for our nightly walk. The hallway wreaked of weed. He was gone when we got back about 25 minutes later.

We thought we were going to have night number four of F-No.2®️ and Turtle©️. Wrong.

Loverboy®️ just came home with, and in Starlet’s®️car, something we haven’t seen for a month or more. She was all running up the stairs, laughing and giggling, while he was carrying bags of takeout. Not exactly sure where his car is, or why F-No.2®️, who has been here since 4:45 gets to use it tonight? Maybe she’s going to test the waters at Turtle’s©️ place.

So my guess is this:

Pre-weed (in the car); food, fuck, weed, fuck, snack, weed, fuck, sleep, fuck, fuck, sleep, wake up, fuck, go to work. I hope I’m wrong.

I really need to get back to work. So I only have to hear absolute strangers fucking in the hotel room next to me. They at least bang it out twice before 11:30 and call it a night.

So much for a good nights sleep. Way too many things going on in my brain for that to happen. I think my next step should be a lobotomy.

In no particular order:

Dreams. Seriously fucked up dreams involving my dead parents, old friends wanting to borrow money, and one pissed off casino GM that was furious with the design team I used to work for.

Alternate bunnies upstairs. Yep. F-No.2®️ and Turtle©️ must be a thing. 3 nights in a row, of bang-bang time. At least F-No.2®️ is a soft moaner, whereas Starlet®️is looking to win an AVN award. Turtle©️just grunts a little bit, whereas Loverboy®️doesn’t make a sound. Between 10:30P and 5:05A they must’ve done it 5 times. Sadly, the bed still moves across the floor and sometimes hits the wall.

Funny thing about getting up to pee in the middle of the night, it makes you thirsty. Therefore the pattern is a viscous cycle.

I didn’t sleep for more than 45 minutes at a crack all night. That is until 7:07 when I finally shut off my alarm, and slept until 9:14.

The Wife™️ has shut off the AC, and opened the windows. It’s a bad air quality day today, and I’m having trouble breathing. We’ve only seen each other for 20 minutes, and she’s off to go meet up with the protesting group she volunteers with.

I’ve been thinking of surprising her with a clean shaven face. (Historically she’s always preferred that. Also, I’ve been able to grow a full beard in about 1.5 weeks. I’ve also dreaded shaving my entire life because of various facial hair reasons. I’ve been shaving somewhat regularly for the last 40 years). I’ve honestly only thought about it so maybe she might decide, on a whim, to take me to Bang-Bang Town, and I could then have that fatal heart attack. Yes, I am that morbid. However, the odds on all that happening are slim at best.

In a spot of good news, while writing this post on got the email notification that I’ll be getting paid tomorrow. Granted it is the smaller amount from the Texas project, that I was expecting this week. Nonetheless, 24.69% of the total amount I have floating out there will be in my account tomorrow. Maybe that fatal heart attack can wait until the remaining 75.31% is deposited. Go out on a high note, because my contract states they don’t have to pay me if I’m dead.

Hopefully there will be no bunnies upstairs, or no alternate bunnies doing similar actions. In fact the only things I’d like to wake me up tonight would be a) gotta pee, b) The Wife™️ playing with my junk, or c) actual fire.

Odds on favorite is always choice a.

The things I could do with that kind of money.

That time of the month again. Not sure where these are made, nor exactly where they are going. But a few times a month they pass by the single railroad bypass track.

So Loverboy®️ has been having someone stop by his place. We’ll call her F-No.2®️. She typically Uber’s in around 4:45P and tidy’s up the place and leaves before he gets home around 7:15P. Sounds like a cleaning service, until…she’s been here the last 2 days.

Last night he brought her back here at 10:15P and immediately left. Around 11:00P, for the last two nights, some other guy has been here to spend the night with F-No.2®️. We tend to notice new cars parked outside along the area where we see all the same cars all the time.

Yesterday morning, when this guy left, he couldn’t work the smart lock (key code combination) so he called Loverboy®️ on speakerphone. I got to see him leave. Since he looks and dresses like “Turtle” from Entourage, I’m going to call him Turtle©️.

Thankfully, F-No.2®️ and Turtle©️ are much quieter, and so far only appear to bang each other 2 or 3 times a night. Added bonus no porny sounds like Loverboy’s®️ gf. I think I once called her Starlet®️ as in pornstar wannabe.

F-No.2®️ Ubers out in the morning, and I presume goes to work. Later on in the morning around 10:30A Turtle©️will leave. My question is who lets someone else use their apartment to hookup with somebody? Is that a thing these days? I’m just so confused.

I did mention the plot twist had double action.

The 60-something, heavy smoker (property no-no), Tommy Bahama wearing, white guy that lives on the other side of my bedroom wall…we call him Smokey Joe®️. Well he used to have a lady-friend, but I don’t she’s in the picture anymore. I think Smokey Joe®️ has recently bought a new tv for the bedroom, and now watches porn with the volume turned up. My guess is he needs hearing aids.

———

I find it oddly ironic that whether we realize it or not, we form routines and patterns in our lives.

These routines are what drive some of us forward. We learn to adapt to them. We thrive on them. We often actually become dependent on any given routine. It weaves its way into the fabric of our life. A familiar pattern that gives us comfort and solace. Stability. Security. Safety.

Then something happens, and something within the routine comes to a halt. Suddenly the entire routine is gone. That thing we felt was keeping us alive, while simultaneously killing us is just gone. The patterns become well worn paths we travel.

Therefore we start another routine for something else. You trip, stumble, and fall…then you need to climb back on the horse. It becomes a struggle to keep your routines in an ever-changing world. Those well worn paths cease being fruitful, and you constantly need to adapt.

The thing we thought held us together was actually slowly killing us. The thing we created to fill the hole, isn’t sufficient. So now, without a routine, we’re slowly dying. Even the new routine isn’t enough to stop the downward spiraling. The patterns are never fully clear and easy to navigate.

We struggle to get back to where we once were. We never really get there. Adapt. Redirect. Overcome. Repeat this for the rest of your life.

My Aunt has Alzheimer’s and most likely forgot I was there

Her daughter (my cousin) and her husband (and their two adult sons + wives + three granddaughters) want absolutely nothing to do with my sister, her husband, and by default their two adult sons

They live about 1.25 miles away from each other in the same town

We want nothing to do with my BIL, and try to get my sister out on her own

It was over shortly after it happened. Now back to the time when I’m isolated and can’t get people to call me back, or answer my emails. Trying to collect on invoicing, and trying to figure out my next move.

It’s dawned on me that what I really want is to go back to being so busy that I just work myself to death. What I can’t decide is if it would be better to die alone in a hotel room and not be found for a few days? Or, would it be better to have that heart attack in the air and inconvenience an entire airplane full of travelers?

After 4 days of airport coffee options of NOVO and Daz-Bog here, and Biggby Coffee in central MI; I was finally able to get right in my coffee world.

I don’t do Starbucks if i can help it. Plus I don’t know what’s worse gas station coffee or that free shit at hotel breakfast bars. Here’s a tip: housekeeping doesn’t clean those coffee makers in the rooms.

The amount of side-eye stares one gets while the nice TSA agent is swabbing down a couple of containers. Then flicking the hell out of the testing kit, and holding it against a white background.

Swab the lid. Flick flick flick. Wait. X 2

Meanwhile everybody going through is staring me down (I elected to do this on the floor, instead of a private room).

In bed on a Sunday night.

This weekend:

I laughed

I felt love

I shared information

I smiled

I had a warm heart

I enlightened a few

I had some affection

Today, we have returned.