Working up That Holiday Cheer

I am beginning to get some sense of holiday spirit.  I was wondering how this was goiing to play out, with me hitting the bricks three weeks before Christmas.    And I know it's going to be tough taking a train home from the house on Christmas night.  I was thinking about this last night as I was drifting off to sleep.

I flashed on a Christmas 26 years ago.  I was taking the Clark Street bus down from Evanston, where I had jumped off the Metra train from Wife's parent's house.  I hopped off at Clark and Deming and the only person on the street was a hooker.  It was really, really cold and she was looking for a chance to get inside for a while.  I could have had my bells rung for about $20.

But I wasn't up for it.  I was in love, I was cheap, and I wasn't comfortable with the idea of paying for sex.  Of course, I became more comfortable over the years, which is one of the reasons I am where I am today.

So that's why I was wondering whether or not this Christmas was going to do it for me.  I think I'll still be bummed out riding that bus.  But I will have a good time all day before then.  And I'm not going to cut a deal with the hooker.

What Time Does the Cafeteria Open?

I'm getting cabin fever.  I can tell I'm getting cabin fever because I'm starting to act like I did when I was in college.  Any time is a good time for a nap.  Even if you just woke up and brushed your teeth.  I lived for three days eating nothing but the pizza I ordered on Sunday.  I almost allowed myself to watch Friends on Lifetime.


What it comes down to is simple: men need structure.  Give us too much free time and we will become fat, lazy lummoxes watching tv reruns. 

It's not like I don't have work to do.  I still have my class materials to finish up.  But class doesn't start until January and I don't have anybody to check in on me and make sure I'm staying on task.  I know I'm not the only one with this problem.  And I know many women who procrastinate, too.  But nevertheless, there it is.

Some structure is necessary in my life or I start to drift.

You Don't Need to Worry 'Bout Me

Sorry.  I was just channeling Peter Scolari for a moment there.  Odd, thing really.  I haven't thought about doing the drag thing for years.  But I digress....

I am doing okay.  I miss my kids.  I miss Wife.  But I am getting used to the quiet.  It forces me to occupy myself.  That could be smoking pot and hanging out in fron of the tv.  But it hasn't.  I'm getting work done.  I'm keeping my own house.

It wasn't my choice.  But it hasn't been life-ending, either. 

Which is good, because it's been fucking cold!  Sub-zero wind chills mean something when you're right on the Lake and those winds have raced hundreds (if not thousands) of miles with nothing to break them.  I started to go down the street to get a loaf of bread and the wind gave me angina.  I gave up after half a block.

At the moment, it isn't necessarily a bad thing not to have any place to go.

Settling In

I'm moved in to my new apartment.  Well, except for the boxes and shit.  It will take a few days to get those out of here.  But I slept my first night in peace.  I fell asleep easily and awoke late.  Moving took a lot out of me.  Some shopping today and I  can now stop eating out every meal.  My wallet and my doctors will appreciate that, I'm sure.

I have to get the cable package improved, but my roommate and I are negotiating that.  I am willing to pay for the tawdry sexx and violence that is HBO and Showtime.  Of course, there's nobody in the bed beside me.  But that's been the case for years.  Even when there was.

Back on the Lakefront

I am not wild about starting out on my own again.  At least one benefit is that I am living within walking distance of the lakefront.  That and I am not far from Lincoln Park.  There will be a a lot of photo opportunities.  I plan on doing that to keep from going crazy.  I'll be putting them online and maybe try to sell a few prints.

That, and I can finish the novel I didn't write this month for National Novel Writing Month.  I start every year and generally go about 10 pages before I give up or just go blank.  This year, I had a good story, characters that were more develped than they have been in the past.  But things got in the way.

All in all, I'd rather be working, or rich and famous. I'm flexible.  I can go either way.

I'm Trying to be Thankful

Spent Thanksgiving in the hospital.  Prostate infection had me backed up like Holland Tunnel at rush hour.  I spent the whole night before sitting on the toilet or curled up in a fetal position on the floor, wishing I would die.  I did get a turkey (processed) sandwich at around 10:30 Thursday night.

My first wife suggested that I should have gone to her room and told her I was sick in the middle of the night, because she stilled wanted to be there to take care of me.  The next day, she was reminding me of how she couldn't wait for me to get out of the house.

So next week or the week thereafter, I will be moving into my tiny apartment.  It will make it hard to go to First Wife's bedroom when I am having chest pains, or anything else.  But enough of feeling sorry for myself. 

It's a new world.  Hope it's better than the one I'm in right now.

Welcome to My Happy Home

I went to look at an apartment today.  It was in my old stomping ground, only a couple blocks from where I lived when I was single and Arthur was King of all England.

It's small, but it'll do.  I don't require a lot of space. 

It will be strange being single again.  At least I'll be able to eat my dogs with onions again.