today was so crazy.
i'm so exhausted i can't even remember what i wrote about earlier. but there was this mental vomit that happened after i posted, and i feel like it was important enough to document.
i glazed over the part where i was working on the house with contractor the night before, and opened my email to see the official divorce decree from lawyer.
it's finally over. for real. what's ironic is that i got it yesterday, but it was signed into law and public record two days after my anniversary. two days before nina's birthday.
so maybe now i can just celebrate that day next year, instead of feeling weird on my would-be anniversary.
and how fucking ironic that i read it at about 10 last night, after we'd spent a couple hours preparing the house for the cleanout today.
i told contractor last night that i really don't want to live with hate in my heart. and that every single time i step foot in that basement, i am filled with hatred and anger and ill will towards ever. and thanked him for helping move the last big things into the keep pile. thanked him for helping me eradicate all of that hatred from my house.
and what i didn't say to him, but also felt, was that i just need ever to be out of this house. i didn't feel like it was hard until now. but the way i feel today, after everything is gone, is that he is really very nearly a fucking bad memory. i can almost forget him.
i've been practicing saying that i bought this house. that i gutted this house. that i put it back together. that i did everything. the we is slowly disappearing. because i'm slow to say things right now in an effort to make it mine.
to take it back.
and did i take it back today.
when i posted that, they were wrapping up with the removal of everything.
all told, two and a half tons of JUNK. out of my house. all of it was shit ever had collected. messes he had made. and $900 later, i was crying with relief, standing in front of the garage which was completely cleared, and swept clean. yesterday a huge hairy black spider came at me like a spider monkey. and i threw a brick at it and missed, and literally ran screaming down the sidewalk fifty feet away, while i was talking to nina on the phone. and luckily contractor pulled up with tools and took care of it for me right after.
today? there is NOTHING scary in the garage. no dirt, no mold, no brick, no cinder blocks.
the basement is free and clear. so much is so empty. and cleaner.
they shoveled everything out. all the dirt piles ever made, and rocks. all the construction trash. all the wood he cut up and piled into a stack on the floor that rivaled my eye level.
they took the paneling off the staircase that is in a horrible state of disrepair. and uncovered several support and load bearing issues. so i'll have a new staircase soon. i'm actually excited to do that project. it will be fun, and i've always hated the stairs down there, because they're crooked and rickety. it's like curb appeal for the basement. i can stand in the front and see all the way to the back wall. which has never happened until now. i am just beside myself, so pleased with the outcome.
five thousand fucking pounds. removed from my house. i took it back. and it feels so good that i can barely put words on it. i think i'll keep forgetting once the kitchen doesn't smell like wet dirt and power tool smells. there's this smell, twice now, and i do not like it. it smells like the scrap metal plant at the base of the platt bridge. the first time was when we plumbed in the refrigerator and contractor cut through the tile. because tile cutting requires water, and we didn't use any to take off the corner, the kitchen smelled for a couple days. and today, it was from the blade cutting through cast iron pipes to repair the drain line.
so i have this master house list. there's a contractor and tea list, of easy projects i can actually help with. then there's a list for us to work on when it's warmer out. exterior paint and concrete stuff that needs low humidity and warmth to be done.
and there's a long list that is tea and family stuff. painting and other stupid projects fall on that list.
and then there are four stages. things that depend on others' completion. things that are less pricey before things that are more pricey. little projects before big. things like today's work that i can't help with, that requires a team.
and then there's the lottery list. the shit that is so retardedly expensive and unnecessary that i just can't even waste brain power teasing myself.
pointing the brick, which is over ten grand, and is strictly to insulate the house and make it look nicer outside. painting the cornice. again. thousands of dollars for something that serves no purpose other than to look prettier. and two roofdecks. which i really really fucking want for this summer. i'd be ecstatic with one. but it's probably a three thousand dollar per deck expense, and i can't think about it. i have to daydream about the decks when i have an entire loft bathroom to remodel. because that's six to eight i actually have to spend.
and in light of aubree living here this summer, as long as her contracts are filled out in the next week, i need to step it up. because i'll need a door up there, so either i can live up there, or so she can. and if her internship is paid, then i might even get some rent out of it. or house fixing money. which is all i really want.
to keep the ball rolling. to get everything in working order so i can just go back to relaxing and laying in bed, complaining about my depression and lack of plans and lack of a social life and how miserable things are.
because when the house is done, i'll be so much better for it. i'll be so much in the future. and i can take the pile of money i collect and fucking run away for a little while.
i think that i'm fucking terrified right now.
to feel myself feeling positive feelings for a boy. and to feel myself getting caught up in it and excited. and to know that, even when things are going well, i always find a way to cry about it. that i will always accidentally get caught up in it when i am the instigator.
what if the only reason chalk worked for those two weekends was because he was the proposer? the pursuer? what if, when i pick the boy, and make the move, it means that i automatically get hurt?
fuck me.
my head is the biggest wreck of a mess.
what if i just think i'm ready? and then i get destroyed by some fuckhead piece of shit boy and want to curl up in a ball and never leave again?
kit made me laugh cry yesterday. i cried today with the garage, and just had a arms crossed over my eyes meltdown, saying the word 'fuck' aloud. out of fear. and despair.
i'm so tired. it reminds me of when the writer came to visit and i fucking cried for days, sleepless.
i'm there again.
but in a very excitedly manic way.
today really was so good. i think i'm scared because of just how good it was. and the lack of sleep amplified that excitement times a jillion. and then it faded and the fear took over. times a jillion. and the sappiness. times a gajillion.
i'm going to attempt to smoke one last smoke. and then sleep. and take it from the top tomorrow.
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