I realize taking these hiatuses pretty much blows the whole narrative for anyone following along. I’ll try my best to connect the dots though the energy to include all the details eludes me right now.

The work situation has rapidly escalated to the point where I am making daily phone calls to the desk of Miss Valium, begging her to talk me out of any fantasies I have about walking out in a fit of middle fingers and curse words. My daily tasks are of Mission Impossible caliber, and the positon is now barely a shadow of the original job I accepted in the first place. The phrase “I didn’t sign up for this” immediately springs to mind. That and that old song “Take this job and shove it”.

When I am not scrambling to salvage a Wal Mart project gone horribly awry (go figure) I find myself dreaming up revenge fantasies not unlike those of Dolly Parton in 9 to 5.

Most nights I come home late and pass out on the couch or floor or wherever my legs give way. I have even sought solace in the occasional drink at the neighborhood fag bars.

It was on one of the exceptionally exhausted nights that a new boy came in to my life.

I know, you’re all thinking “Finally! After all that whining” but rest assured I’m well on the way to ruining everything. So put those chickens back in their coops and stop counting.

He’s cute. A bit more of “a norm” than my tastes usually suggest but he’s got a filthy sense of humor and kisses like a total bandit.

Or at least, the way I imagine a bandit would kiss as I have never actually made out with one.

He’s a flight attendant which equals automatic nickname of “The Stewardess” as far as I’m concerned. As per the usual ironic turn of events that get thrown at me, his work schedule has him away on lay-overs most weekends, which is pretty much my only free-time to get my drink on or have sleepover dates.

During the week I find it hard to make it home in time for dinner dates. And with my energy so depleted by the end of the day, even the promise of a late night booty call takes a back seat to curling up with the cats and staring at shadows on the wall.

This week has been incredibly fucked in that “The War of my Mother 2K5” has broken out again in full force.

This time it’s her plans on selling half of my parent’s house to her boyfriend that has sent my brother through the roof, and I have to say has me floored as well.

There are all sorts of reasons why this is a messy endeavor on her end. Mostly because most of it was done without the involvement of my brother or myself. And while legally I have no claim on that house, it is the only tangible thing I have left of my father since he died and the thought of it leaving our family is just too much to bear. You see, she is planning on leaving the house to the boyfriend in the event of her death.

And while I try to calm myself down with the high probability that my mother will outlive all of us, stubborn little pill that she is, it’s just the idea that she decided to do that that really gets me.

Of course being the master manipulator that she is, she is planning on taking his payment for half the house and splitting it between me and my brother. Sort of hush money. A LOT of damn hush money. Instant condo type money as far as I’m concerned.

But honestly, it’s not about the money at all for me. It’s about keeping the house in the family. I would go on renting the next ten years if only it would mean that my mother put her children’s interest before that weenie. I don’t think she realizes how good he is making out on this deal. Or the HELL involved if they ever decided to split. I mean, she would wind up having to sell the damn house just to get rid of him. Do you see my points of concern here? Am I over reacting?

She’s got her guilt trips of course. The typical “You guys just don’t want me to be happy” bullshit. But I ask you, faithful readers – have I been anything but supportive of this woman’s decisions after the death of my father?

So yeah that’s what I’ve been dealing with lately. Sort of robs you of whatever hearts and flowers nonsense that may be lurking around the corner.

And lurking it is. The Stewardess calls faithfully from each stop and layover. He lends an ear to all my endless ranting and bitching. He sits attentively at my side during video game marathons and doesn’t ever raise a fuss when I exclaim, “Just five more minutes and we can get lunch, I have to make it to the next save point.” He laughs at my impersonations of Whitney Houston suffering a bout of diarrhea.

“Oh Bobby, I’m about to do the doo … oooo Bobby … Bobby, I’m about to drop it like it’s hot”

But still, I find myself keeping him at arms length, really putting him through the paces.

I don’t get why I can’t just give in and trust this. Why am I ruining the one good thing I have going right now? This could be the relationship I have wanted in my hearts of hearts for so long so why am I ruining everything?