I'm getting ready to go and see my therapist.
What am I going to wear? Do my socks need changing, shit like that. I get up and make another cup of coffee and lunch. Then I get online and put my headsets on to block out the world around me, and turn up Pandora radio. While I'm busy, I can hear noises outside my door. One of the voices sounds oddly enough like Paula. Can this woman ever just shut the fuck up? Don't tell me that more of her family matters are out in the hall again. I remove my headsets. Why? Because I'm a nosy motherfucker.
But here, hear! It sounds official. Main- tenance. There is an official sounding conver- sation and then my doorbell rings. What the fuck? Why are they ringing my doorbell? I didn't ask for maintenance. I get up and open my door, to find blue and white coverall wearing individuals. "Exterminator." Oh, that's what's going on. I step aside and open the door, allowing the man in with the tank on his back. He walks through the room, waving his wand, spraying into the corners and cracks of the room.
Meanwhile my glance goes out of the room to the two building maintenance men who are ogling my laptop in its new riser. Yes, she is beautiful, and expensive looking, and there she is, naked as the day she was born. For a moment there I felt like the protective father: I wanted to say: What are you two looking at? "Alright," the Exterminator walks past me and I gratefully close the door behind him. I pour myself a soda, and cop a squat behind my laptop again, typing away when it dawns on me. I'm going to be leaving for my therapist soon. What am I going to do with my laptop?
I had intended to leave it here on the desk while gone, but now...I don't know. The maintenance men have keys to all of the apartments. OH YEAH, paranoia begins settling in. I stopped typing. I'm going to take my baby with me. Oh, no...but it's raining outside. It's an awful day to be lugging her around in the nasty weather. She'll be safe here. Maintenance men are bonded. Bonded my ass, I'm taking this motherfucker with me. There is no way that I can function if she was ever taken from me. This is a matter of survival. Stop being so fucking dramatic. It'll be fine here. No, they'll be watching and if I leave without my pack, they'll be right up here. A quick smash and grab. With everyone on the floor watching?? C'mon. If I was to loose her because I just left her behind I would never forgive myself. You're not going to lose anything.
This is the conflict in my tiny mind. A literal war between both lobes of my brain. My skull is about to split in two. It's enough to drive me mad. I want to scream. What do I do now? Cancel my appointment, that's what. Cancel the appointment, grow still and quiet in my room and wait until they ring the bell. Don't answer it, and listen for a key in the lock, duck behind the swing of the door and when they creep in shut the door on them forcefully, catching one between the door and the frame, smashing it into him repeatedly until I hear his ribs break. Then I'll chase the other down the hall with a paring knife. If I catch him, I'll slash his ass open so that I won't be charged with attempted murder.
Catastrophizing again. I'm not canceling shit. I'm going to my therapist. AND, I'm taking my baby with me. I've carried that mother on my back for nearly two years, EVERY SINGLE DAY AND NIGHT. What's a few hours today?I dress up, pack up and put my baby safely in my backpack.
It's time for my appointment.
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/02/sweat-from-skull.html
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