Dear diary,
I’m bored. Yup. I’m back to be bored. Now Dad is yakking too much. Once again, stuff that I wanted to stop doing – I’ll end up doing unless I move outta the community. Then I’ll do something different until I feel like I wanna move outta that community again.
So the guests were mostly parishioners, a handful of relatives and very few co-workers who just had to excuse themselves. There were military personnel and maybe CIA spooks, who blend in like everyone. I didn’t care as I hugged almost ALL of them.
So yeah I cannot leave the place because of the support. Now I have to behave ‘normal’ and ‘get along’ like the rest of the humanz. Das Squirrel seems oblivious to these spooks and is actually relishing and enjoying their company. OMG! I’m surrounded by idiots.
But the sad part is that we’re all getting old, reflective and dying. Honestly, I don’t like existing as this creature called human – too much fatness and emotions – much like lard floating on water – the mixture is yucky.
Anyway, I’m too lazy to do anything. I could donate more stuff and maybe sell my car. But Dad said to keep using my car because it isn’t broken, which is true. But I can’t keep that thing alive with monthly insurance premiums since I’m not using it.
Although I do get discounts for less mileage, I do NOT want to keep paying when I’m not working. I shouldn’t complain because I can still survive by NOT doing anything. I’ve got unprocessed, yet have scanned, these incoming mail – checks, notices, and other adverts.
Maybe when I’m up for cleaning-up more crap, I’ll end up donating stuff that may come in useful later on. Alas, I’ve donated those and are for the living who can make use of my treasured junk.
I’m not finished with the clothes as some I probably could repair by making the material smaller. (Oh yeah, I’m that fat kid in a long gown, next to Mom.) Yeah so I need to thin out this old house, because I could move out and then move back in so that Dad can do his own shit.
But the guest kept telling me to keep an eyeball on him because he might get depressed. He’s been shaking from sadness for two days. And well that will take time. He needs to volunteer at church. He doesn’t want to worry about others. Selfish, just like his son.
What’s the point of inviting church goers if he himself doesn’t lend a helping hand? Selfish. Stubborn. My god. He won’t life a finger. Just lift his son. Good in talking and telling stories and joking. But won’t lift a finger, only if being paid or for doing something in return.
Yeah, well it’s a long journey. Soon my journal entries are just dust, just like my interest in scanning and archiving and yakking with Dad whom has pissed us off over the years. Now he’s just annoying. He won’t stop. Why won’t he stop? He can talk with your friends.
I have to push myself to talk with the choir, even though I don’t wanna. He yaks with me and doesn’t hang out with his own species – peers and guys. Sheesh. Don’t use me, man! Get away. Sheesh. Annoying. Lone Ranger, he said.
No wonder the children move away from the parents – annoying as heck. Can’t get along with their own brutal peer groups. It’s the only reason why people go out because they are stuck with their own same people at home.
Annoying. He won’t stop. Why can’t he grieve by himself? Y’all don’t have to read my blog. Sheesh. I’m being mean to him so he can move on with his stubborn life. But he’s 79 years old. Either he refuses or he can’t. I know some really old timers are really not stubborn like that prick.
Sorry but he won’t stop talking to himself. I should put on my headset so I don’t have to hear his shit. He refuses to read newspaper or anything else and expect me to enjoy listening to his crap. Nope. Sorry. I’m mean.
So I should try to get an expensive apartment near the work and only visit him during the weekends. I’ll take the parakeets and he can garden by himself. Man, no wonder the relatives can’t seem to get along – it’s because he refuses to connect.
Sincerely,
Flynn B a old pissed off fat broad with white and thinning hair.
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