Getting Settled (Finally)

Don’t tell my parents this but they are probably the main reason for my consumption of 168 ounces of beer per night habit (at least this is what I like to tell myself). If they aren’t/weren’t the main reason they most certainly are now after countless nights thinking about life at a .18 state of sobriety – or lack of sobriety.

I think it started when I was in college. I should have picked up as many shares of 3M as I could afford. It was about that time when the main line of communication between my parents was Post-it notes. Without going through all the details (like me moving out and my dad taking up residence in my old room) things gradually progressed to the point of dad moving out in the summer of 2008, divorce proceedings finalized in the summer of 2009, and most recently the sale of their house. I’ve tried to stay out of it as much as possible.

Dad’s been ok I guess, being the one to file for the divorce and moving all of his possessions out of the house while mom was at work one Saturday. Seriously? Could you imagine coming home on a sunny Saturday to find a note that says “I moved out.”? I thought that was a bit harsh and haven’t had too much contact with him since. Unfortunately for some reason he likes to swing by my house, unannounced, with his new woman at least twice a year. Yeah, just peachy.

Mom on the other hand has not been doing too well. A year after he moved out I finally got it across to her that I didn’t want to hear anything of it, how he screwed her and had everything planned out and left her in limbo. The exit strategy sucked and could have been handled differently but both their actions led to the separation.

Now, in this terrible housing market, the house finally sold. I think she has till the end of the month to move out. I repelled numerous “Where do you see me living?” questions. “A house, a condo, or an apartment?” Senior home. I secretly prayed that she wouldn’t buy a house. If a light bulb goes out she has me fix it. I wasn’t looking forward to doing that kind of shit for the next who-knows years. She did end up putting in an offer on a house but gave up after the price negotiations went south. Going up in price by $2,000 only to be rebuffed with a $500 decline will do that. So finally she settled on an apartment with two bedrooms and underground parking. Probably the best option in my opinion. Maybe not the best option financially, throwing rent money out the window and all, but remember, this is my opinion. I don’t feel the need to do yard work/maintenance on two properties.

The sad thing, after all this had been settled and it appears she’s heading in the right direction, I was asked this question, “Do you think he’d come back if I asked him too?” Without any hesitation I gave her my answer. Delusional. This is what I have to put up with. This is why I drink. This is why I have a roommate and numerous acquaintances, few of which I would actually give the label “friend” to. I don’t like getting close to people. My sex life consists of porn and one night stands. 99.5% porn, .5% women who for I-have-no-idea-why think I’m cute and might call them the next day.

Writing all this tripped a trigger in my head – I need to pick up beer on the way home. Thank you, dear blog that sucks worse and worse as time goes on with absolutely nothing funny on it anymore, for reminding me, in a depressed state, that I need to pick up beer.