Another Day

In the light of another day, everything seems to be okay… except the man wants to evict my groundhog. He bricked off two exits and plans to block the main entrance to the rodent’s habitat when he sees Marty out playing in the yard.

Yes, I named the groundhog Marty.

He (or she) lives under the addition a previous owner built to expanded the kitchen out a few feet to make space for a table, so there is no basement under that part of the house. I imagine it is a cozy home for a groundhog, out of the wind and perhaps even somewhat heated as the water pipe running from the laundry room in the basement across that crawl space to the faucet on the outside of the house back there did not freeze at all last year. I worry about Marty finding a new home.

Ummm, I said. I kind of think like, maybe we should make the groundhog its own little house, kind of like a dog house. Do you think it would move into something like that?

The look on his face was priceless. I could tell that he thought I’d done lost my ever-loving flipping mind. It took a full minute before he could say, “What?” Then he didn’t wait for an answer. He just walked away waving his arms and shaking his head while mumbling something about crazy.

Marty is the groundhog I wrote about in Early Spring. He might not want to venture out on February 2nd to predict the weather, but I can tell you this… he’s a hell of a lot fatter than he was last Fall and his coat looks a lot thicker, so it would not surprise me if we are in for a harsh winter. Let’s hope he hibernates before the vet catches him out in the yard and blocks the entrance to his home.

 

NEXT DAY:  He came home fucked up on that shit last night.

Damn. Just when I was hoping that I was imagining shit, that he can’t be doing this… life felt back to normal when he was out weed whacking and plotting how to evict the groundhog. There was the man I know and love… that stranger his daughter dropped off on my doorstep last night, the man fumbling around and saying “What?” as if daring me to state the obvious, had yet to come down from his last hit.

I’m losing the man I love to this horrid drug and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

 

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Fish Blue

Me: Babe, I’m getting used to this…
Him: Oh really?
Yeah, I’ve slept alone more in the last couple weeks than I have in the past year or so.
Awe babe…

What are you doing down there?
I’m getting my apartment together.
I think you’re playing… down there partying, playing poker with the boys, getting messed up.
He laughs, says I’ll be home in the morning (yeah, right… I’ve heard that before).

Can I stop by and pick up that ten tomorrow?
Babe, I’m coming home, I’ll bring it with me.
Blah blah blah, sweet dreams (oh… goodnight at 7:30?)
Yeah I love you too.

I hang up and dial my kid. Hey, what are you doing bright and early tomorrow morning? I need to go shopping… pick me up at 8:15?

Maybe he will conquer whatever has taken hold. There’s something toxic going on. I might be wrong, but I’ve known enough addicts to recognize the behavior patterns. Something takes all his money and wrings him out. Whatever it is, he tries to hide it from me… doesn’t do it around me. And if I flat-out asked, What’s your poison? What are you doing? Smoking woolies? He wouldn’t tell me anyway.

I feel like a break-up is inevitable… the man avoids confrontation at all costs, so he will just slide out slow, spend more and more time at his place and less at mine… he’ll wander in and out, slowly taking his stuff out, time will pass, two days, then four, work up to a week… and all the while, we will continue to say I love you and pretend all is well as it ever so slowly fades away. In the end, it will be like we just drifted apart, floated off with the fallen leaves. We will break up without actually breaking up. It will just gradually happen… one day it will be like, oh… it’s over, been over for a while.

I can see it play out like that. I can see myself singing this song… I’m just not ready for good.

 

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