this having a housemate thing is definitely a world of compromise. take today. he was up, unbelievably, as we were scrambling about with breakfast. jumped in the shower without an “anybody need the toilet first?” so i was left with crossed legs in the kitchen. we’d already woken to dominic careening about the room at 6:30, panicked and unable to use his back legs much. i was trying to calm him down, not get upset myself, keep the boys from crowding him, etc. “what’s wrong with him?” don’t know, working on figuring it out. “whoa, that’s serious you know. you know that’s serious?” yes, I KNOW. clenching my gut against anger and sadness. of course I know. I’ve had him 15 years now, I know a bit about cats, particularly mine. thanks for the comments.
D goes to school, m goes back to bed, i watch F for awhile, trying to soothe the cat under the desk in the boys’ room, and nap a bit myself. m gets up, showers, leaves.
“Do you think I can print a couple more copies of my resume and a cover letter in a little bit? I have a big interview again this afternoon.”
sure. Thank God he has another interview, I can’t take much more of him being around 24/7. I have no privacy. None. Unless I close the double doors to the dining room completely, he’s finding a way to ask questions thru the cracked open door.
“can I borrow the ironing board? got a big interview, need to look sharp, you think this shirt is ok? how far to deKalb? thanks a lot.”
It’s like having a teenager in the house, one that is feeling a bit guilty about not moving out yet, finally feels the pinch as you’re charging rent now and give him a hard time about eating your food. he’s behind on rent, bored, does want a job, but the longer he goes without one the more support he needs, emotionally and financially.
“can you take a look at this cover letter? it’s big, really big, HUGE. i’d really appreciate it.”
yes, in a minute, i’ve got to finish this.
“sure, take your time, no worries. i just need to be there by 5:00.”
it’s 3pm, there are issues with his cover letter, and i WANT him to get a job. any job. to get out of my house for at least 10 hours a day. hours I can be loud, do my own thing, not have to keep the doors shut to prevent interruptions, and feel like a prisoner at my desk. the desk I’m sick of, that i’m sitting at now, typing this. so i give him my suggestions.
I’m taking the whopping 45 minutes that I have, after going to the park with F and a friend (to keep from moping over the cat and doing less-than-vital updates on my site) … to answer two quote requests, catch up on emails a wee bit, and get some lunch eaten.
i pick up d, come back to a modified cover letter, per my comments. ok, where’s the formatted version i can print from? “oh, i don’t have that, it was in word and didn’t come thru, can we just …” riiiight.
pull into OO writer. guess at pdf’d resume font. print test copy. resize font. print again. “great”
put in good paper, print first one, change names, print second. ask how he’s going to hand it over … “manilla envelope” no, not good enough, use one of these plastic sleeves. I WANT him to get the job so badly I’ll trash my day to make him look better, come across better, in the hopes that he gets out.
um, how are they to contact you from this letter? just a mailing address?
”#$@#%@” yes, right, shall we put in your email address? reprint, hand over, answer questions thru the window to D who’s eating a popsicle on the porch.
“thanks, i really really appreciate this. really. it means a lot” I know you do, you really do, but appreciation isn’t what I’m looking for here. peace. peace please. just for a few hours.
get back to my work, call back my potential client 15 minutes late, discuss options, shush D, discuss more, get off and F wakes up.
on with the afternoon. more questions, more thanks, more commentary, more harrumphs and “wows” as he reads at the table. “when’s m coming home? he’s not? what’s he doing?” it’s none of your @#$#$ business is what I want to say, but I don’t. i swallow hard, answer short, and never turn around. retreat to the porch to talk to M when he calls.
sit down again at the computer to write, be distracted, and decide I’m done here for the night. no more posts, no more work, off to spend some quiet time, in my room with the doors closed, and not on the computer.