Sunday, August 24, 2008



Home never felt so good. Eight days away doesn’t seem like much, from a big picture perspective. In the forest of my life, it is but a few leaves. (Sorry, I waxed poetic. It was an accident.) The thing is, the time I spend in north Georgia just doesn’t allow any time to decompress. That’s what makes time drag the way it does.

I get up, wait for my father to get up, and I get him squared away. Coffee, whisky, cigarettes. A glass of Ensure. I go to work, and the job is stressful, by nature. Then I go back to my dad’s house and hang with him. It is hard to see him in this condition. It takes an emotional toll.

Toward the end of the week, I found myself getting cranky, and snappy with people. I managed to catch myself before I did any damage, but still, having to watch my tongue is tiring in itself.

What made it more stressful than usual this week: there was a friggin typhoon sitting on top of my neighborhood, and all I could do was watch and try not to lose my mind. Has a tree smashed into my house? They call this place Wonderwood for a reason. The oaks are ancient and massive. And with the Intracoastal only three hundred yards away, I was also sweating a flood. It’s never flooded here in twenty years since the neighborhood was built, but has there ever been this kind of storm just sitting there for three days dumping rain at a rate of three inches an hour during some stretches?

I was getting updates from people here, but it’s different, someone telling you your home is intact, rather than seeing it for yourself. It was additional negative energy, and by Friday, I struggled to keep a foul mood at bay. It took an effort.

I sit here and read this and it sounds like I’m whining. Maybe I am. Hopefully, this will be the extent of my whining. The point is, I’m glad to be home. My bed. My couch. My TV. My remote. My home.


At 4:38 AM , Blogger Robin S. said...

Well this looks good to me. Now you can have a week at home to finally do that decompression, and everything is intact.


At 12:17 PM , Blogger Conduit said...

And some people still dispute global warming!

Glad you're feeling better.

At 7:39 PM , Blogger GutterBall said...

Hey, there ain't nothin wrong with wanting your own place. It's more than just wanting your remote and your chair and and and. It's...your place. Your air to breathe, your ambiance, your sense of style and function. Your comfort zone.

I never sleep well when I'm anywhere but my own bed. I'm a slow-sleep insomniac as it is, but add in not being home and you can just count out more than a couple of uneasy, wakey-sleepy hours, which leaves Geeb and unhappy girl. So trust me, I know what you mean.

And your situation isn't exactly enviable. Don't sweat it. Anyone would be on their last nerve in this circumstance.

If you need to get crabby with anyone, I'm always just an e-mail away, WW.

At 7:40 PM , Blogger GutterBall said...

"and" = "an"


At 6:04 PM , Anonymous wonderwood said...

Thanks for the pep talk, you guys. Home is all about comfort, and it's hard to be comfortable in someone else's home for an extended period of time. Makes me appreciate my little cottage all the more.


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