Let Me Just Spend Some Time


Working on myself.

By myself.

This is what the brain says to me, that I don’t need people, I certainly don’t, I got this handled, I can do it, go away.

I don’t even know what the hell it is that I have got handled.

But rest assured.

I have it.

My head was just a fright tonight on my way home from work. It was an off day, a day with a few scheduling surprises and I suddenly had a very topsy-turvy week happening, gathering all my things together, getting all the boys things together, preparing to not be nannying at my regular gig for a little bit.

One of the families had some unexpected travelling happen.

But it won’t happen until tomorrow.

I got the text when I got home from doing the deal in the in the Inner Sunset, that I was actually needed tomorrow.

I had to re-arrange my brain and my brain had just figured out what it was going to be doing and where and when, and you know my brain doesn’t like change, even when it’s good for me, it doesn’t like it and then I get the message.

Never mind.

I mean it’s not a total never mind, I will most likely not be nannying in Cole Valley for about a week, possibly a week and a half.

Which means that I will be in the Castro and that does affect my timing and my schedule and my get about and I will probably try to get my scooter out and going, I think it will be great practice for me and since I already made it up to the top of Castro Street, I should be able to make this one too.

But it won’t be tomorrow like I had thought.

It will be Friday.

And Thursday will be a regular day in the NOPA.

So, I am off kilter and the when I got home the only thing I wanted to do was dwell on my own shit and instead I sent my friend a text and said, I’m home, what do you need.

In seconds, a task, something to do, a way to get out of my head.

A trip to the 7-11.

A half-gallon of whole milk and a two-liter of Coca Cola.

Yes please.

Then, a walk through the last lingering lights of sunset to my friend’s place.

I dropped the milk and the soda in the fridge, fixed him a glass of Coke with some ice, washed his dishes and shot the shit for about an hour.

Boy howdy do I feel better.

It’s really simple.

And it’s always the same.

I can’t make myself feel better on my own.

I mean, yeah, there are things I can do in the privacy of my own time and place—like this blog—that do make me feel better.

But sometimes after a day of hanging out with a fifteen month old boy and a two-year-old boy, I need to engage with a friend who’s a little closer in age to me.

By the time I had finished my friends dishes I felt so much relief I cannot even explain it.

I really was glad he had dishes that needed doing.

Sometimes that small of a task can really help.

When I was at work earlier and I was not certain how things were going to suss them selves out and I felt a little crazy about the not knowing, I swept the floor.

It really helped.

Little stuff that I don’t typically talk about either.

Esteem able acts.

I did three today, and don’t you worry, I will be keeping them to myself, the fact that I even wrote that I did them takes a little of the satisfaction out of it, but suffice to say, I will sacrifice that to the blog.

My friend laughed at me after we had a minute to talk and catch up and see how the other was doing.

He’s only got two more weeks in the cast and I am really glad I have been able to do the few small things that I have.

I have gotten a better friendship out of the mix and a lot of relief from the crazy in my head.

Sometimes only a good friend is going to know the depth of that shit and some one who has been around the block a little longer than I and can give me some perspective on my crazy is a valuable asset.

I will happily wash your dishes again, my friend.

Although the next time we meet up we are going to the beach.

Saturday, a walk down to the ocean.

It will get him up and out and give me a little something to do on my Saturday that is social.

I have three commitments, but not always a lot of social things happening.

Then in a few weeks when he’s out of the cast and ready to do some exercising, I am going to tag along and go swimming with him out at Aquatic Park.

Yes, that’s right, I am going to go swimming in the Bay.

Looking forward to that.

I have never gone and I like the idea of going swimming at Aquatic Park before I attempt open ocean swimming.

Plus, there’s showers and lockers and buoys marking the course way.

“Can you do ¾ of a mile?” My friend asked.

That translates to about 1275 yards and though I haven’t been in a pool since I was in Paris, I can probably pull out a 1,000 yards without too much exertion.

What it will come down to is how long I can last in the water.

30 minutes without a wetsuit.

Longer if I decide to swim in my wet suit.

That’s all in the future, not here, not now, not something to worry about.

Thank God I have people in my life.

I can’t fix what’s broke with what broke it.

That is to say.

I can’t think my way into the solution.

But I can act my way there.

 Even if it’s by just doing the dishes.

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