50

Everyone do the Scrunt!

I miscounted, buds.  I am 51, not 50, and will be 52, so one more entry before it's my age, and two if I don't make another before Sept 2, my birthday.

It looks more and more like I will spend my birthday homeless, which is only fair, we spent Aaron's and Joey's birthdays unhoused - Joey's in the Airbnb and Aaron's in the tent.

We won't be here past Sunday.  I am not sure how we're getting out of here.  I will talk to a friend with a truck, someone who used to be one of my closest friends, but we drifted apart during the lockdowns.  I was quarantined for 5 months, and she had many of her own painful struggles going on.

I miss her dearly, of course.  And I think I'm having some trauma about who I've lost, just because I notice myself having to fight not to just pillbug up and stop interacting at all out of fear I'll lose everyone else.

I have a permanent lump in my throat these days.  I am so, so grateful for the friend who will let us stay in her yard (Rundes), but it's going to be really, really rough.  It's not a flat surface, which is a problem with a wheelchair AND with my own very poor balance.  And no bathroom for Aaron.  

I have spent the morning on the phone again, trying desperately to find help paying for the hotel for longer.  If we can get to the first, we can pay it next month.  It will take all of our money, probably very nearly to the cent, but we could cover it.  I'll look for another Airbnb too, but we are homeless in tourist season.  September might be cheaper though.

We are out of food today.  Joey, who has ARFID, had trouble eating at all last night.  We went through the last of our toast last night - I got a piece.  I am a chonkalonka much like Scrunt, I can live off my reserves but I have to admit being hungry makes being homeless feel even worse and I must also admit - the only reason I am alive, 4 months in, is because I can't leave the kids alone in this.

I am alive because I have to be.

I don't want to go into the tent again.  I don't want to be hungry.  And I desperately don't want it for the kids.

Joey had the last of the waffles this morning.  Aaron hasn't eaten yet today - he is pill-bugging in his own way - but I have some saltines and the last two slices of cheese set aside for him, and a can of double noodle soup for him for dinner.

I don't have me food.  I don't have much Joey food.  He will likely be eating dry cereal if his poor broken teeth can handle it.

I don't believe in a Universe that gives people what they deserve.  There are too many awful people alive for that.  I do sometimes wonder if I deserve this, though.  I feel like I have laid waste, however unintentionally, to my entire life, and with it the lives of people (and kitties) who depend on me.

When talking about a Universe that doesn't deal in "deserve", none of them deserve a caregiver so flawed and broken.

Gawd this is all terrible.  

On the plus side, I guess, I fixed this keyboard and the F key now works.  FFFFFFFF.  I can often fix or slapdash things.  When we're settled, should that day arrive, I will teach myself how to take apart these newer gen xbox controllers to clean and fix.  I used to maintain the 360 controllers, and the N64 controllers, well past their usual lifespan.  Newer controllers don't want you to do that.  

But I am stubborn and irritated by paying for stuff I could just fix.

I am so tempted to take up one of these "tiny house lot near Mille Lacs only $1k!" ads.  I don't want to live on Mille Lacs.  I mean, it's gorgeous, but it's also rural, and I am not allowed to drive because I am too AWESOME (and also because I faint a lot).

At least I can maybe write.  I have a story in my head.  Not my Lily story yet - there's a Lindorm in that one I haven't figured out how to handle.  Maybe I need to read Beyond Heaving Bosoms some more.