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Mental torture. Taking pleasure in the unhappiness of another. Cruelty. Revenge. Back away from this situation, quickly.
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December 17, 2024 8:12 AM (EST)
Dear Allison & the Onyx Savant,
How are both of you and the pup-a-colas? Finally, a regular sort of Tuesday. I don’t know what I had going on last Tuesday…oh, yes, I do now. Last Tuesday was very rainy and busy indeed for me. Mr. H’s parents came over, and I got the H-E-double-hockey-sticks out of Dodge. The one before that was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I think… anyway, it is neither here nor there. I hope your Tuesday is bellissimo.
I have been thinking about what you said yesterday, Ally-san, about how could you help right now and what do I do if I accept them as they are. It’s not even always about accepting people, for the record. Sometimes they come up to me and ask my opinion. And I promise I am not sulking. If someone asks my opinion directly, and I offer it in as gentle and diplomatic a manner as I can come up with, not being Sir Antony Blinken, and that person proceeds to get mad about my answer—well, I don’t really know where I’m supposed to go from there. If I treat them all like intellectual or emotional children, I run the risk of looking and/or being pompous. Mrs. H, Mr. H’s mother, has asked me my opinions on things when I was very much keeping my mouth shut, and I have tried to demur, and she presses, and then Bob’s your uncle. Sigh. I am not just jumping up and down on everyone (anymore). It has been some time, and I don’t really consider myself an activist right now. For more of the record. I am still donating, but I’m not involved or informed on that level. I think it’s generally best if we all undergird ourselves for the moment and wait, anyway. And I don’t feel like arguing with people. I do generally want to get along with others who want to get along. I’m not being spiky. I know I can be.
For those who are not in the know, such as Vanti, and so as not to be rude, let us lay out the series of events quickly. For the past couple of years, Mr. H and I have had some internal stresses. Internal to ourselves and internal to our relationship. We made a major move from my hometown of two score years to another town across the state. We bought a house and everything. Mr. H had gotten a new job that paid more, and so we sold his townhouse and packed up our dog and cat and left the big city for the exurbs. All of this was stressful, as you might imagine, especially for Mr. H. Anyway, I started worrying about some of his habits, and a series of very unfortunate conversations began, which all resulted in me calling his parents and having an intervention for him this summer. Sigh. It did not turn out like in the After School Specials, and I want my money back. We talked, they talked to Mr. H, and then we all talked together. When we came back together, things had been turned all around and things were said…anyway, I learned a lot about their family dynamic that day. I did not speak to them except one other day right after that, they forced themselves to help with the yard and we had more words. One moment while I heat up my coffee…anyway, I did not speak to them until Thanksgiving, when they texted me. I responded after some time and mulling. But the holiday spirit and the better nature of my Aunt G got a’holt of me in the end. Good thing for good aunties. Anyway, they tried to come by all of a sudden to help caulk—it’s always a chore or something. I said I wasn’t prepared for all of that then they ended up coming two days later—that Tuesday. As I said, I got busy in locations that were not at my house. But I salted the windowsills and doorways before I left, and I am not even kidding. I went to Habitat ReStore and a local building center to talk about posts for the front stoop. However, we had a Christmas party to attend this past Sunday night that was hosted by his great-aunt where his parents were also in attendance. So I couldn’t fend them off anymore. Mr. H asked them to come by yesterday to help fix his brakes, so they did, and I wound up teaching knitting to his very excitable, but also noticeably milder mother.
Yes, this is all a lot of drama, and I guess I made it. But I was worried about Mr. H, and some good has come out of it. We have started seeing a couples’ therapist, Campbell’s Soup, since then. His parents did talk him into that at least. Sigh. Sometimes, Ally-san, I want to throw a dishrag at a hologram of you. I know you know.
I don’t like my tarot card for today either. It is a bad omen. I don’t even have anything on the agenda except for city council, which I rarely attend. I could imagine there’s some of that happening at a city council meeting here. Not hard to avoid. I did extend an offer to Mrs. H for us to have lunch and knit or crochet together. She did say she has this church knitting group she was hanging out with. It’s funny because they don’t actually go to church anymore, but Mrs. H would totally go to a church circle without attending the church. I would find that odd, socially, but I have no good answer as to why, except I suppose I couldn’t imagine dealing with the ongoing onslaught of “Why don’t you and Mr. H come to services this Sunday?”
I know etiquette is dead, but the wraiths of 1930s manners books and Emily Post and the various country and officers’ clubs I somehow wound up in over the years spring forth in my bosom. I could lay a tablescape worthy of Henry VIII, given the time and resources. I am in and of the wrong time.
Anyway, as for what is happening in the present, I have once again moved my desk all around. It was something I had been thinking of for a week or more but hadn’t the time. I simply moved it 90 degrees to face the wall, so the window is to my left instead of right behind my screen. That also conveniently puts the shelves above my desk like a hutch of sorts. I then moved the demi-lune table I picked up in front of the window where the plants upon it can access the light. Ms. B’s bed is tucked into the corner beneath the coat hooks right behind me. The mini fridge is on the wall between the doors to the kitchen and laundry rooms. And I swiveled the shoe bench around to be by the key hooks and window to the patio. It has actually opened up the space a bit. I did not finish all the finer organising of books, plants, and incidentals. I mainly got things in their zones last night. So I’d like to continue with organising my office/studio today. There’s always laundry. The dishes aren’t bad, but I will make a goal to clean up what is there. Maybe I can do some cooking today, as it is the “Best Day” to bake according to The Old Farmer’s Almanac. I’ll see what’s what.
I’m starting to get antsy, so I’ll leave it here. I am listening. I know I’m hard-headed. But I am. Or trying to. I’m still going to salt the windowsills and doorways though.
I hope you are both having a good holiday season. Truly. I do need to focus on some good things. The weather is nice today, so I suggest a walk in the grass (wear different shoes, Vanti) with your pup for all of us. This time of year can be surprisingly colourful with leaves, fallen or still clinging, and birds’ feathers and holly berries and all sorts. The weather has been dismal lately, and I could use a new lease on life, I don’t know about you. That is what this time of year has been about, historically. You get a lot of baby and infant imagery. The Sun is a babe and growing each day after December 21.
Love you lots. Stay sweet and sexy. Don’t get caught.
Your friend and ridiculous groupie—
Case Study #69