Thursday, August 20, 2009

Maybe You Should Sleep At Home Tonight

"You might want to start thinking about reintegrating back into your normal life."

This is what I have heard. From my brother, mother, aunt... I find myself wondering what the hell they mean by that.

"You haven't been to the gym, you are not eating proper meals, and your stuff is all over the living room." (- Mom quote)

Hmmm. How does one "Reintegrate" when each day is a regurgitated nightmare of the previous? How can I go live my Uptown Life when my dad happens to be an integral part of that experience? While my dad patiently waits in his quiet hospital bed?

On any given evening back in the day, my dad would call and have an interesting proposition in mind.
  • "How about I come pick you up and bring you home for some Davannis pizza?"
  • "What about a stroll (stroll = total Dad word for 'walk') around Lake Calhoun?"
  • "Maybe I could stop by and we could do a quick Facebook tutorial?"
I was sick of the family's requests for me to "reintegrate" so last night I stayed at home in my apartment. I spent some time making piles of my shitty mess of clothes, mail, paper towels (= make shift toilet paper), empty shoe boxes, and empty boxes from jewelry I have ordered countless times on etsy.com (= retail therapy).

Some interesting things happened with this reintegration experiment. I have to admit, I did sleep well. And this morning was pretty scrumptious with the whole solo coffee/cereal/cigarette-on-the-stoop routine.

I feel more in place, as though I am finally able to snap a lid back on a Tupperware container and get it sealed tight again after it was misshapen by hot dishwater.

But, something is missing.

My eternal chauffeur, my never-quite-a-grown-up, my fellow exploration partner is...not... Here.

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