Social Scurvy

It is all a coincidence, of course, but there is something strange about the fact that I randomly selected tomorrow as a vacation day and tomorrow we expect a death of snow.  How much is a death?  However much it takes, I guess.  I will have to take some honest stock tomorrow.

The guy upstairs is very quiet and not so friendly lately.  I don’t know why that is.  I suppose he has problems of his own, one of which is having a daughter, a ten year-old daughter which one imagines is a situation fraught with problems.   This is not a situation I can imagine myself entangled in, so I observe from my chair at the end of the hallway and direct people into their respective bathrooms and acknowledge them and let them know there’s two stalls and not just the usual one and hope the guy is alright, that he’s getting by and that the miserable boss of his (not mine) treats him well enough to survive.

I thought that today.

Still no phone.  It’s on backorder with no date as to when it will arrive.  This is what you get when you delay – more delays. I have ordered a few christmas presents which is positive.  Step in the right direction.

Enough dithering, I want to not be fat.  I want to not be able to control myself among others and lose my mind when I’m sitting here alone, processing.  Eating with absolutely no physical reaction, no stopping point, no desire or delight.  Just madness.  I’m feeling gross and frustrated and thoughtless and I think…that’s terrible.   I know that I’m reacting to the stress of trying to pay bills with no money, trying to deal with feuding co-workers and exhausted bosses and this sexless, boring, creatively-neutered existence by eating.  I’m replacing all of these voices in my head, these cropped-up hopes and sequestered fantasies, these raging reconstitutions of my failures, with this orgy of fat.  I don’t want to not have done this right.  I don’t want to be found out as this flawed thing whose only secret inner life was the madness that tolerated nothing but its own existence.

So, I’m making a grocery list right here in the midst of my self-loathing and disappointment and the stink of frozen pizza on the table and the candy wrappers about me and my half-drunk soda bottle.

We begin not in the morning, not after a good bath, not just a second from now – but here, now.  I have time tomorrow to go to the store and get good food, but none of that matters if I don’t get good food when I’m there.  Tonight was all frustration and I got this stuff because this happen has taken root again and we have to drive it out.  Drive it and get it behind us, Satan! Or something equally dramatic but a little more secular.

This is how it works, guys, cold turkey.  Or maybe this is how it will work since we are at the outset, but I’m sick of being a whiny bitch about my life and instead, I’m going to do what I can to change it.

 

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