So when I first moved back in with Dad, or more accurately when he and Doug were discussing it, one of the conditions of him allowing it was that I Do Something, even if it is work for a charity. I found that acceptable terms, because I am an idiot and keep forgetting how often I fail at this employment thing and how rarely I hear back from anyone but I thought surely there must be something.
For a while I couldn’t do anything because of the car, and then we got the car fixed. I had been wrong to be optimistic; no one was interested, and only two of the employers I tried even contacted me back to say No. Otherwise it’s been a great big zero. So I went back to food delivery.
When Dad found out what I was doing, he was very happy, and I told him from day one that I am not scheduled and I can pick my hours.
So now, if I’m not out there absolutely every day, he gets crabby. If on the other hand I go out there Saturday, he complains because Saturdays are crazy. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME, I’M DOING THE BEST I CAN HERE
It makes no fucking sense for me to burn up my car even faster by doing the six-day-a-week balls-to-the-wall thing I was doing in Columbus. NONE. I need the car, his life is easier if I have the car, and if I fuck something up it’s going to cost at least the four hundred and something for the starter replacement and probably a lot MORE. And then I will hear the bitching because Dad has to pay for it. So my goal is to limit it to three days a week, maybe four if I have a bad day, fewer if the weather is shit. And this is not up to him. This is up to me.
So that was the background for yesterday.
I didn’t go anywhere Monday and Tuesday because those tend to be slow days anyway and I wanted to do things at home. Wednesday I went out and had a decent day and pulled in about fifty, which bumped me up to seventy with the insurance due on the fifth (I had thought the second, but this was even better). Supposedly rain was on the way but it wasn’t supposed to be that bad. I am not fucking Matt and I know they aren’t accurate enough but that’s all I had to go on.
Yesterday it thunderstormed all through the lunch hour. Lunch hour is when I go so I’m not driving at night in a still-unfamiliar city. I’m learning the streets but it will take months to get proper comfortable.
I pointed out the weather to Dad, who was perfectly capable of seeing it himself, and he grumbled “well you picked the outside job.” I could see which way this was going, so I went to Carrie’s and spent a good chunk of the day. Dad has Asshole Phases he flits into and out of at random times and this was one brewing up.
Came back later, asked him did he want supper, he asked how work was and I told him the truth: it was storming, so I went to Carrie’s. He denied that it had rained all day (okay, ask Carrie yourself? We were out IN it and then complained about it at her place), grumbled something about being “sick of this shit” — meaning me not working every fucking goddamn day, I guess — and said he wasn’t hungry. Had already said he needs to lose weight, which is ridiculous, but I’ve given up the idea that he will ever see sense about food, nutrition, diet, OR diabetes, and he knows fuck-all about any of them. (Thanks, medical establishment. I place the blame squarely on YOU.) So it wasn’t wholly surprising, but that bit about being “sick of” whatever pissed me off. I bite my tongue a lot, not wanting to lose a bed to sleep in. All you fucking men who act horrid to the women and girls living with you because you know we have to take it, I hope an alligator bites your fucking dicks off. Slowly. And you bleed out. I don’t care who you are. You suck. Anyway, I decided I wasn’t going to try to cook dinner with him there being a fuckhead so I went to McDonald’s.
The calculation I did with that is I have not been happy with my sugar numbers and I need to dial the carbs WAY back, hopefully to get into ketosis, and I thought about what I would miss if I went low-carb. I know that if I get a real hankering for fast food or really want something easy then I can go to Wendy’s, leave the bun off, and get a Caesar side salad (bonus: they never come with croutons anymore, but with crunchy cheese bits). Not a problem. I can’t do that with chickie nuggies. So that was my last crap meal at a fast-food place, I hope. If I ever want fast-food chicken nuggets again, I’ll get the grilled ones at Chick-Fil-A.
I stayed out til the sun was almost set, got some things at Walmart, and went back to Dad’s place. Can’t really say “went home.” He was asleep, thank fuck. I washed the stuff in the kitchen sink, puttered around a bit in my room, and went to bed and a little while later his ass gets up and turns on half the lights and turns on the TV nice and loud and stays up half the night. Meanwhile I have to slide my bedroom door closed (it’s one of those sliding barn door sort of setups, except not a barn door) because MY light bothers HIM when he’s in bed. It’s his house and I get that, but the fucking hypocrite anyway. At least I have a loud room fan that drowns most of it out. Wish it served as a blackout curtain too.
What I got at Walmart was eight Atkins shakes in two flavors, a bag of broccoli florets, and a bag of cauliflower. Unless shit gets really strange, he’s got a bunch of boneless/skinless chicken breasts in the freezer and there are drumstick pieces I could bake which are already seasoned. I also got a bottle of sugar-free honey mustard sauce. I will probably get another couple flavors if I don’t wind up homeless again, but we’ll see. I have salad dressing already, so I could do really simple suppers of a meat and one or both veggies and toss the veggies in the salad dressing and if I want to put sauce on the meat, I can. But I didn’t want to dig for the chicken boobs last night and make noise, so I grabbed the nearest available ribeye out of the chest freezer and put it in the fridge to thaw. So that’s supper tonight.
I set up a couple caffeinated lemonades before I left and took four of the shakes. Two for breakfast, two for lunch, the lemonade to drink in between because I wasn’t going to set myself up for an argument by making coffee.
My sugars have been interesting. Still too high but haven’t spiked more than twenty points, which is hella better than they’d been doing. I feel like if I go into ketosis I can still be relatively safe and gain good sugar control that way. I’m going to find out. I’m at the very beginning stages of easing into it and am already feeling weird, but I find that I feel weird if I get too close to 100 mg/dl. Which is where I’m supposed to be. Which is weird. I think once I burn off my excess glycogen (you never burn it all off), that might sort me out a bit. I’m still a sugar-burner, is the problem. That means your body expects to have sugar for fuel all the time. If you get into ketosis you get out of that state. I really need to.
It was storming again today so I stayed in Jennings at the library. In fact, I am still here. Worked on Rory’s fan site some more, fucked off on Facebook, basically just did not give a shit all fucking day and if it’s crappy tomorrow too, I will be checking out the Lafayette public library because they are open 9a to 5p. I don’t like to be late with my insurance, but as the due date is the 5th and then I have a grace period that lasts til the 21st, I have time. I refuse to worry about it. The weather will improve and then I will drive for a few days and get the insurance money together and then job done. Whatever.
I think from here on out I will just leave the house and go wherever all day except on Sundays. If he wants a ride and keeps being a shit, he can ask Carrie or he can ask someone else. Me having to be his chauffeur or his housekeeper was not one of the conditions he set for me moving down here. If he decides to change the terms then maybe I’ll be fucked. Until he does I’m not going to worry about it. He wants me out of the house? I’ll be out of the fucking house. Fuck him.
The first thing I need to do when I get the insurance out of the way is get the phone and hosting lined up again for the end of the month and then, after that, line up some interview and work clothes. IF I CAN EVER GET A FUCKING JOB, my next step will be find an apartment. I am not going to stay in a situation where I am constantly being belittled and disrespected in the place where I have to sleep. People can hate me if they want. They have never had to live with him. It’s just like the situation with Matt. What a great guy. Uh-huh, wait til you have to clean up after him or deal with his lies and inconsistent bullshit and unreliability and two-facedness and fucking triangulations. What the fuck is wrong with men? I’m so fucking done. And human beings are fucking stupid. All a man has to do is hand them three ribeyes for free and they’re suddenly his best fucking friend even if he has a basement full of women’s skeletons. And they will praise him to the skies if the cops ever search his house. “Oh, he’s just misunderstood.” FUCK. YOU.
On the other paw, I have long had a problem with social-media addiction. If I don’t start using what little internet access I can secure to better my situation, I might as well feed myself to the local gators… what is this shit? Entire years gone and nothing to show for it. Matt wasted twenty years of my life, yes, but so did I.
Well, got things to do. Will undoubtedly whinge more tomorrow.