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I just turned 41 this July on the 7th. My body has been screaming at me for some time now that it’s getting older as each year passes. I’m also a grandma to my handsome Chunka Butt, Lukah. He’s 15-months old and when he’s spending the night, he rules the roost here and knows it. Well, to a certain point. GG does have rules, except he’s the only one allowed to break em the first few times without getting in trouble. I swear he’s the only lil person I have the utmost patience with. Because my husband, I swear on everything, can get me riled up faster than anyone I know. I’ll bet there’s a lot of other women out there who’d agree with me on that. For instance, he’ll ask me a question he already knows the answer to, but he’ll ask me anyways just to see if my answer matches his. Who tf does that? Him!
I slept late as hell today and I hadn’t drunk any coffee after I got up (it was entirely too late), and I’m sitting in my usual spot, going over next week’s coursework for the online college courses I’m taking. Since we’ve moved into a new place, we have to pay lot rent every month. He asks me if I know when it’s due. I look over at him 10k crazy and told him its due once a month every month (smartass reply, I know). He makes a scoffing sound, like ‘I know that Tina’! I continued by telling him I wasn’t sure, but I figured he knew because he’s the one who paid it last time. He pulls the receipt out from his wallet handing it to me and wants me to see if the paper the receipt is stapled to has the week of the month its due by before being considered late. Here I am thinking to myself he really should already know because he’s the one who was telling me about when things were due. But I look and it’s nowhere printed on the paper. Only explaining where we can go to pay it. So, I sent a text to the owner of the trailer park we live and asked her. I still haven’t had a response, so he’s going to go pay it tomorrow regardless. When we moved out of our old place, we’d been living on the southside of Paducah, also known as the Reidland/Farley area. Now though, we live in Lone Oak, which is an upper middle class to richer part of Paducah. However, we are far from being in either category or classification, but we are well off enough to where we don’t really want for nothing. As long as our bills are paid, we have food in our fridge, and a roof over our heads I’m happy.
I don’t own my own car and haven’t for many, many years now due to my history of seizures, and of course the fact I’ve totaled damn near 5 or 6 vehicles my husband owned about 10-years ago. All together I was involved the same number of wrecks. Thank goodness no other vehicles or people were involved or hurt. I couldn’t be more grateful for that honestly. I haven’t driven any of his vehicles since 2015, except when I almost lost him from carbon monoxide poisoning, and he was in the hospital for a little over a week. I had to drive his truck during that time to get myself to the clinic every morning to receive my daily dose of meds at the time.
Note: Since my release from prison in 2018 I have not and will not drive any vehicle under the influence of any type of narcotic medication or alcohol.
When I had those wrecks in the past there were only 2, I can honestly say I wasn’t under the influence of anything when they happened. I had suffered a seizure while driving his red Firebird headed to my uncle’s place. I steered to drive around a sharp curve and was barely going 15 mph when out of nowhere I blacked out and woke up in the front of someone’s yard stopped at the trunk of a tree that had just been planted by the homeowners. Strangely enough that was the vehicle he wished I hadn’t wrecked the most out of them all (they don’t make them anymore). Needless to say, I’ve had the worst luck when it came to driving back then. Now, in my present daily life I have to depend on others or my husband to take me where I need to go when I have appointments and the like. Let me just say its nerve wracking asf to call someone up and ask them if they can drive me only to be turned down because they’re busy themselves. Then there are days when the Ol’ man works out in this god forsaken heat all day and the last thing he feels up to doing is driving me to any scheduled appointments when he gets home. Those are the times I call to cancel and have them rescheduled for another day and time hoping I’ll be able to make the next one.
All my bodily functions are going haywire and not working as they once did 20-years ago. I haven’t had a cycle in over 6-months I know, but that doesn’t stop the crankiness from appearing and rearing her ugly head once a month whenever she’s normally due to make an appearance. Yeah, it’s funny at times, but not all the time. Then when it comes to my mental health and my patience, they’ve been shortened more than I ever thought possible. I have no patience whatsoever when it comes to my ol’ man acting like he’s in a bad or aggravated mood towards me, especially when I know I haven’t done anything to cause those reactions from him. Like when I came in here after waking up today, I asked a couple of questions, and he completely ignored me. When I managed to get his attention and asked why he wasn’t answering me he claimed it was because he didn’t hear me. I call straight up BULLSHIT!! He said he was into watching (yet another) one of his COPS reruns on tv. He’s seen every fucking episode of those god forsaken shows they’ve aired since the beginning. So, when he told me he was just watching the boob tube and didn’t hear me, I proceeded asking him what’s wrong. He changed his tune really quick and claimed he was fine. I get that he gets aggravated as much as I do and often more than not over sillier shit than me. Where Lukah might be getting on his nerves if he’s ready for nap time, I’m totally fine and have hundreds if not thousands more miles to go before aggravation settles within me. I hear him tell me all the time he doesn’t know how I do it.
I glanced at my missed calls and noticed I had several from my momma. I scooped up my phone and called her back to find out my dad was about to bring my grandson’s new bed frame he made by hand over. He’s also going to be replacing our front door, and I thought he was also doing that but come to find out he wasn’t. He and my son brought Lukah’s new bedframe over and its beyond beautiful. My dad has mad skills when it comes to working with wood. He can make anything he imagines from wood. If he thinks it, he can damn near more often than not make it. Lukah’s new bedframe has his name in beautiful wood block letters on the headboard, and he stained it a lovely caramel color on the entire thing. At first when I called, I thought he was also going to be fixing our front door and I was going to tell him to wait until it had cooled down outside because it’s been extremely hot this summer. However, when he said he was only bringing the bedframe I was like well come on then. When he got here though, he couldn’t help but to go back outside and start fiddling around with the old ass metal door. I could hear him using his drill screwing screws into the frame trying to make it more stable than it had previously been. After he finished and came in, he was sweating all over. I told my son to get him a bottle of water, while telling my dad he didn’t have to mess with that today. He said he was just trying to keep what hot weather he could outside until he could fix it all the way.
After they left, I made myself useful and cooked what we were having as leftovers because Greg was hungry and ready to eat. We had white beans with diced ham chunks, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob. MMM, good!! He’s ate already and laid out on the couch with a full belly and feeling totally satisfied, and in so much of a better mood too I might say. I haven’t paid much attention to writing the past few months because of school and my brain running on overtime. But after this afternoon and my nerves getting rattled as bad as they were I had to do some form of therapeutic writing. I chose to write here because I can always come back and reflect on how I was feeling on a given day I chose to post, knowing in the future when reading it again I’d be grateful I didn’t feel like I felt the day I wrote it.
I guess the whole point of me wanting to get whatever the hell it was out of me was supposed to be about my nerves or lack thereof. As well as my mental health related issues too. Having written this much I find myself feeling so much better. Better to the point I almost lost what it was I wanted to write about in the first place. Isn’t it crazy how shit like that works? I’m going to end here for now. I’ve had some wonderful ideas for the bad character in the book I’m attempting to write. I wish I hadn’t lost the first 20 chapters I wrote when I first started a year ago. I had some damn good material too.
I hope everyone is doing splendid this Sunday evening. God bless all of you guys.
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