Although I Have a Roof Over My Head, I Find Myself Homeless...

I know the title seems a little bit over-dramatic. It is. I shall explain it later. First, I want to make good on something that I had promised you guys earlier... sort of. See, I had told you guys that I would post a recent picture of me whenever I took a good picture of me. However, that hasn't happened yet as it is very hard to take a good picture of me. Especially, since I don't take pictures often as I don't believe I am very photogenic. This brings me to last Friday. In order to raise our esprit de corps, or morale (I just wanted to sound fancy), every month we have a "munch day" at work. This "munch day" consists mainly of items brought by each employee, potluck style, and usually some sub sandwiches contributed by the management. As soon as I find out the sign-up sheet is posted, I rush over to write my name on it and write "sodas and sweet tea" next to it. I could try to come up with something else, but so far sodas and sweet tea have been the most low maintenance things I have come up with as I am sure as hell not willing to cook. Anyway, to add an aura of celebration to what would otherwise be a common potluck event, these "munch days" are often themed. The theme last Friday was "Wig Day" and we were encouraged to bring our most whimsical wigs. Fortunately, I don't own any wigs. Unfortunately, Dottie does so she let me borrow one and this was the result:

Forgive the bad picture but I did not have a good one and did not want to keep you waiting longer.

First of all, yes that is a wig. Be advised that my hair would look nothing like that if I let it grow out because it gets wavy when it gets longer. Don't ask me how I know but I will admit to owning a straightening iron so you can infer what you will. Also, feel free to leave all kinds of comments about what or who I look like in the comment section, but I have already heard them all. I have been called an ethnic Fred from the Scooby Doo cartoons and that I was a bandanna away from looking like a hippie. Personally, I think I look like a native indigenous Mexican but I know most people can't relate to that so I will just get a bandanna and start saying "groovy." Anyway, I have fulfilled, at least in my mind, my promise to post a recent picture of me as that picture is less than a week old. If I come across any good pics in the future I may, notice I am saying "may" and not "will," post it so you don't have just a horrible picture as a visual aid.

Now that I got that out of the way, I will get to the reason why I am homeless. As stated in the title, I do have a place to live but a house is not a home. I am not house-less so there is no need to call the local shelters to ask for vacancies. I am homeless and the reason for that comes down, once again, to Medea. More specifically, Medea and Dad. See, they had been living in their house, which is where I live. I am trying hard not to say that I live with them because, especially at this precise moment, I don't live with them. Or, they don't live with me. I am unsure which one is right. The point is that we don't live together. Medea had it in her mind that she wanted to go back to Mexico ever since she did not die in 2008. I guess I should elaborate on that. For a few years before 2008, Medea was convinced that she was going to die in 2008. I am not sure if there was any real conviction behind her belief, but that did not stop her from trying to guilt us by constantly reminding us that we should appreciate her since she wouldn't be around for long. Once January 1st, 2009 rolled around and she found herself still breathing, she decided she was going to build a house in Mexico and move there. Unlike her threat of dying, she followed through on the house. I had moved out of the house last year, after a particularly terrible fight which involved the whole family, but moved back in when their house in Mexico was nearing completion so I could take care of their house here. Now, they left to live in Mexico last December and left me alone in the house. That is when the Old Man moved in to help with costs. However, they came back in February for the birth of Emily. Since then, they had been staying at their house, without really contributing to the bills so it was a pretty sweet deal for them. As for me, I did not have to cook so it definitely had its positive side.

This all came to a halt this Saturday. See, Friday night Medea and Dad loaded their jeep, truck and a tow trailer with most of their stuff and headed back to Mexico. I know me and Medea clash a lot, but I must admit that I like having them here. It feels natural and like everything is right. Therefore, as I knew from experience from when they left in December, I knew I was going  to be depressed when they left. In my defense, I did not cry this time. My eyes did water and I did get that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach every time I stepped out of my room into the common areas but I did not blubber, all snotty and sobbing out loud, like I did the first time they left  That was due in part to the fact that I had planned ahead and arranged for my nephews to spend the night so they would be there in the morning when they left and I would not have the freedom to weep like a Jew at the wailing wall. Instead, I got them ready and went to have breakfast with my sister. That took care of my morning and, in the spirit of planning ahead, I had made plans with two different friends for the afternoon and evening as I knew staying at home would only depress me more. Unfortunately, the afternoon friend, which you all know as Preggo, had cancelled on me the day before as she had familial obligations. Thus, I had to return home, after breakfast with my sister, to the empty house and the first powerful pangs of loneliness.

I must say that the Old Man still lives with me but he is really a non-issue as I don't have a relationship with him and because, other than the help he offers with the bills, he might as well be persona non grata. I know that sounds harsh but it's the truth. Plus, I am depressed so I have to cheer me up a little and being mean cheers me up. Anyway, you may be asking why I did not consider hanging out with the BF during that trying time but unfortunately he was out of town on business so I had to find solace elsewhere. Not that he wasn't there, mind you, as we had several conversations on the phone which could have gone better since I am a real smart ass when I am in a bad mood. Since Preggo cancelled on me for the afternoon, I settled down to nap and watch some TV until it was time for my evening plans. Around four I get a message in which my friend informs me she is not feeling well and that she is taking a nap and will contact me when she wakes up. We had made plans to have dinner so I figured I would have a snack to tide me over until she woke up. When the little hand on the clock hit eight and I still hadn't heard from her, I decided I should have dinner as it was impractical to wait any longer (i.e. I was too hungry to wait any more). I was already stressed because I had not heard if my parents had made it to El Paso safely and my plans being cancelled just didn't help the situation. My parents were traveling without a cell phone, since Dad's cell was from his work and he had to give it back and Medea left her cell for Younger to use, so I had called the aunt at whose house they were going to arrive and had asked that they give me a call when they made it there. According to my calculations, they should have arrived at six and it was already eight and I still had not heard from them. It was obvious to me at that time that the situation clearly called for some wine.

I got in my car to drive to the store. As I was driving, I called Sister to see if she had heard from the parents. She informed me that they had gotten to the Aunt's house about an hour ago and that they had called her to let her know. When I mentioned that they hadn't called me, Sister said that she was about to send me a text when I called. This bothered me more than it probably should have but she had talked to Medea about an hour ago and she hadn't bothered to text me yet. Also, was I really supposed to believe that she had picked up her phone to text me when it suddenly rang because I was calling? Now, I believe in synchronicity but, considering that she uses that excuse a lot, her claim just did not ring true to me. I was glad the parents had made it safely but I was upset that they had not bothered to notify me and that Sister was so indifferent and lax in letting me know as well. On top of that, I got a text from my friend saying that she had just woken up. This just made me mad because it seemed inconsiderate to take a four hour nap when someone is waiting for you to have dinner. Don't they realize that I need to eat and that the world revolves around me? Finally, I was so upset that I called the BF to vent a little but he was busy so the call went to voicemail. Now, there is nothing wrong with that. I knew he was out with friends but I already felt very alone because my parents left, plus I had two friends cancel on me, plus Sister was being stupidly callous so I ended up walking out of the store with this;

No, I did not drink all of them that night. It was not for lack of trying though.

That is eight bottles of wine, four Cabernets and four Merlots.. Considering that I was by myself, it seems a little bit like overkill. I must say that I did not spend that much money. The six with the similar label were three for ten dollars.  I was very shocked the minute I walked out of the store. I could not believe I had bought eight bottles of wine. That's a lot. It was kind of overwhelming as even I knew that was too much. I called the BF again and this time he answered. I told him that I had just bought eight bottles of wine and he asked if I was okay. I guess I wasn't, since I had just bought eight bottles of wine, but I could hear he was having a good time so I told him I was okay and that I would talk to him later. He said he would call back later. I drove back home and chilled the bottle with the blue label, it's a Merlot if you are wondering, while I had dinner. After I had finished my dinner, and just after I had poured my first wine of glass, the BF called. I told him I has just poured my first glass of chilled wine. He was surprised that I had chilled red wine since, apparently, you are not supposed to do that. I figured it was my wine so I could chill it if I wanted to. I am not going into details about our conversation but I was in a bad mood and was very mean. I did catch myself though so I took a minute to change my frame of mind and apologized to him before we hung up and he went to bed. I still felt bad the next morning so I made sure to apologize again the next time I talked to him. I have learned that it is possible to apologize too much, that's a story for a different time, but I felt this occasion warranted the extra apologies as I had been truly mean and was truly contrite.

The rest of the night was uneventful. I did however learn that three bottles of wine is my limit. I didn't really learn that that night though. I learned that the next morning when I woke up and I counted the bottles as the last thing I remember was finishing the second bottle. Don't judge me.  I am not an alcoholic. At least, I don't think I am.  Plus, I drank while in the safety of my own house, remember it's not a home it's a house, instead of driving all over the place so I'm not that irresponsible. Besides, I spent the whole next day taking a 6 hour long bath while reading, I had to catch up on my book club and I was several chapters behind, and I only had two glasses of wine that time.  I want to say the wine helped but the house still feels pretty empty and, unfortunately, I cannot be drunk 24/7. I know it will take about a week before I get used to the parents not being there again, it's just that it's a very crappy week until that happens. Also, I did receive a text from Medea last night that they made it safely all the way to their house in Mexico so at least I don't have to worry about them driving anymore. It still baffles me that they think I am a bad and uncaring son but I guess they don't see how badly I feel every time they leave. Then again, I am twenty-nine years old already so it may be time to cut the umbilical cord. Or I could wait until I am thirty. Yes, that sounds better. I will wait til next year.