2004-01-11 @ 8:37 p.m.
|Well, its back to reality. No more Casa de' Mansion. No more cable television. No more rolling office chairs through three rooms of hardwood floors with one mighty push.
I'm back home after housesitting for 30 days. shitshitshit.
I still had the same pitiful amount of money in my bank account, but I had the luxury of living in a big fancy house in a nice neighborhood with a washer and dryer. It made a big difference in my life.
You could not believe how incredibly small my house looked tonight when I was unloading my stuff. And how many times I tripped over things. And how shocked I was when I turned on my TV and got a snowy image instead of 378 channels, only to remember, oh yeah, no money, no cable TV. shitshitshit.
I went to go get the host family Mom at the airport today. She had called me around noon to tell me when to pick her up. They had lost her luggage so she would literally just be standing at the curb waiting for me.
Naturally I cleaned house like a madwoman last night. Her arrival date was 24 hours earlier than expected and I only found that out because I had checked my e-mail a second time at a shopping mall library yesterday.
And with the earlier arrival time, I was like freakin' Joan Crawford in "Mommy Dearest" when she nails her daughter in the head with a can of Bon Ami cleanser last night. I took my last lovely bath (her bathroom is so heavenly. I could just live there), but then it was a cleaning frenzy time.
The laundering of sheets, the cleaning of the kitchen and poochie eating area, the vacuuming of rugs, the removal of garbage.
I dust mopped the entire first floor. Poochie dog, who is a little blind, I think, closely shadowed me the entire time and would bump into me every time I would make an abrupt stop. After a while I started making them just to amuse myself.
As you can see, I am in serious need of a social life.
I did have a panic attack mid-afternoon. I was worried about the diary-thing. I was worried about whether my apartment furnace situation was rectified. I was worried about whether I would get paid for my house sitting (this was definitely a self created mental health glitch. When I told my mother about it, she said I was "creating something out of nothing...AGAIN...and I should take a clonopin."
God Mental Illness sucks...and it just totally cuts into that fun thing call reality.
But I got everything done. Got everything out to the car. Got the poochie fed. Got the cat jammed into the cat cage (twenty claws extended in attack mode).
Got home just in time to see the Soprano's Sunday dinner let out. It always looks like a casting call for the HBO Show when all the Eye-talians head out to their Cadillacs in the driveway.
I'm still totally amazed they rented their house to an Irish Catholic girl.
And it's taken about two hours for my cat to come out from under the bed. See she was scared to be in her own house. Yeah, that's my cat...paranoid bipolar...just like mommy. (me...beaming with pride)
So my host family mom said she would pay me tomorrow, and I guess I believe her. I hope so because I need to pay back my aunt for my car, which is already clunking underneath. My heater is also malfunctioning. It only works when I hit a pothole.
And in a related note (which only a bipolar could follow...this is certainly the...multi.... ellipses...entry wouldn't...you...say?)
I saw Tim Burton's film "Big Fish" yesterday. What an absolute treat! I don't do films very often (only because of financial constraits. I love movies!!), but I couldn't miss my old buddy Tim. I've been a huge fan of his for a long time. I've lost track of how many times I've seen "Beetlejuice" (talk about the ultimate manic-depressive). And the wonderful "Edward Scissorhands", "Batman", "Frankenweenie" and "Ed Wood". He lost me a little in "Invaders from Mars" and "Planet of the Apes" wasn't my kind of film, but I did admire it.
But I loved "Big Fish" and the tangled father-son relationship. And you could definitely see the Burton touches throughout, especially in the circus sequences (anyone notice Danny DeVito's ringmaster hat? It was a direct lift out of "Nightmare Before Christmas". Edward Bloom also wears a tie in the film that has a stylized graphic from "Nightmare"). I cried when Daddy Bloom died and totally understood the relationship with the son.
It reminded me of my relationship with my mom. Antagonistic, but I know I will be torn up when the end comes. It is difficult trying to live up to someone who is bigger than life. I should know...
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty