update: unable to stop thinking about M. and our conversation (I have missed her more than I could allow myself to feel), I asked Ears. yes, he hid the wellbutrin, took it secretively "maybe 1-3 times" in those 10 days w his father and came back in pieces. and D-Nozzle will be protected from that fact of his own child nearly killing himself rather than disappoint him. like the big fucking dangerous baby he is. imo, he is an utter piece of absolute dogshit stuck in the ruts of my tread. 

M. told me that Ears "went quiet" midway through that trip, D-Nozzle complaining that he wouldn't "get into the swing" of the vaca. so, she and I have pieced it together, exactly when/where Ears decided to come back here and off himself. two things stopped him: Huckforcats couldn't keep Eggs, and what that would do to me. it was 🤏 close. he, like everyone, assumed(s) I'd be okay (so it came down to the cat). 

I'd have walked off the earth with Ears because that is what I would have wanted to do too. and we all do what we will do. 

today his leave was approved to 11/2 of the 11/27 his primary faxed everywhere, and it has to be updated/extended, which it will be. nobody wants to talk to me for the umpeenth time ft just take my $300 for 5 minutes to hand paperwork to your PA who does all your work OR talk to me - choose your adventure. I am down for whatever, killing you quickly or by inches. I think I was built to cuddle with claws pending, not that/this, but 🖕ft😭 too much so finefine, your wish is granted. kaboom style. all wishes have been granted. imagine that: let it sink in: everyone incl you is getting what they wished for. except Ears, who is still breathing.

I ordered a buttload of holiday decor for he who remembers and remembers 

update: DouchenozzlEX's wife, my old friend M., called me. he was somewhere, so she could talk alone. we were finishing each others' sentences within minutes, laughing and appalled. I was there when it was her turn at ecmc - we've allll been there. except D-Nozzle, who thinks mental health crises are for sissies. we suspect Ears went off wellbutrin while on that camping trip to hide the fact of an antidepressant from his father. she loves that man, how/why I do not know, but even so she agrees he's terrible. she's gonna try to get the storage unit / shit moved, leaving only one trip back to his apt for Ears and me, "if she can" - that is what it's like, being with him, grown people that dwarf him in a million ways somehow controlled/reduced by him. 

my ice floats could get gangrenous before I would ever miss that son of a bitch. he makes dying alone feel like the best possible life outcome, and it is what I keep choosing (coincidence? doubtful).

her: he thinks if Ears had sex and joined a soccer team, he'd be fine

me: well I've never joined a soccer team, but...

us: 🤣🤣

her: the other will probably go down a dark road eventually...

us: so it better be worth it

us: 🤣🤣

her: and he has never played one god damn sport 🤨

Virgo. Overnight your buttcheeks transformed into sad little ice floats.

plumber called ✅️ cottage closing rescheduled for 10/5

status: project management (Home)

• move few things left at apt (incl get boxes for books) - I hate shit hanging over my head 
• schedule wood delivery + scrounge more pallets
• figure out how to forward his mail 
• have him make a list of direct calls to change his address - credit cards, bank..
• yardwork incl holiday lights shopping/planning
• start mancaving the basement (his project, except I want to fit a freezer)
• install all electric crap (ring bells and birdfeeder camera - his project)

not necessarily in that order. my guess is we will do yardwork / birdfeeder. he says the hospital was like being in a bunker, the air was 'sticky' and he wants sunlight to burn it oft. the birdfeeder that doubles as a security camera is in pieces in his room being assembled. this yard is an expanse of field, daunting to me but endlessly therapuetic to him. he could dig a zillion holes, assemble umpteen raised beds.

I'm project manager but following his lead. now it's just ONE shit-thing a day, like calling to change his address is a shit-thing to him, any calling anybody = 😖. so, not too much people-ing yet. 

and I also handle the million-little-things not on any list, like cinnamon pastries proofed overnight and will go into the oven shortly to fill the house with warm-smell first thing. I am good at million-little-things. I mighta been born with my nerves shot and/or my parental chaotics nutured my Chicken Little - gotta hand it go my nervous system, it sure can stay nervous 😖🤣 yeup - either way, I have always made comfy around me even when I've been dirtpoor, a nest of books and slow cooking and sumptuous ample bedding. and I am even better at it with another in the nest. #traumainformed #lotsapillows

I would have never chosen this route. grippysock jails are extremely bruising. but it's good he's here, now that he's here. one un-severing of an over-severing. that will help me too as cold weather is setting in.

[last night]

me: (reading) I never noticed before but pretty much every book I own has at least one suicide and/or hanging

him: (snort) ya, not a lot of Eat Pray Love

me: hahaha omg she went nuts too, went down the addiction hole, pulled a Brittney and shaved her head  - I read the memoir, and in it she writes a shitty book for money, so I got the shitty book out of the library (I point at the library pile)

him: any good?

me: nope, going bonkers doesn't make your writing sexier

him:👀

me: well ok maybe mine goes off the xxx rails a bit

us: 😅😅

 

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