Mr. Sensitive

July 28, 2010

Six Day War – Day Three

Filed under: Operation Mortal Coil,Six Day War — lbej @ 09:23
Tags: , ,

Unplanned Mortal Coiling yesterday, and I was very nearly undone thinking I was done.  Katie and I spent last night back in the Hole, packing up and cleaning, and once again I saw things I didn’t need to see.  I thought I was done there and yet I end up with another carload of crap to add to the crap festival in the basement, one more crap blast left by my mother’s creature that he can’t uncrap, one more reminder of all the damage he did to her and to anyone else who cared about her at all.  I would destroy him if I could do it cleanly, but nothing with him is ever clean.  There’s no need, after all: his dessication will proceed without my efforts or attention if I just leave him to it.  I like to think that if I could arrange for a dump truck full of salt to be unloaded into his bedroom I would pull the trigger on it.  But of course I wouldn’t and I won’t.  I bounce back and forth between frustrated and relieved as I find again and again that I’m not as vicious and vindictive as I could be.  It happened again last night.  Katie and I found a box of his personal photos that his servants missed.  They did make sure to leave some of their own dirty underwear, whatever in the hell that was about.  Anyway, we won’t look at his pictures because we have already seen too much we can’t unsee, so I can’t say for sure it’s anything he’d want.  He didn’t know there were any pictures left, yet now we will have to pack them and ship them to him if he is to get them back.  I could have thrown these disgusting things in the trash can at Mom’s and they would be on their way to the landfill the following morning.  He wouldn’t miss them, and if he did, it wouldn’t matter to me.  So I put the box in the trash…and then I got it back out.  Then we cleaned awhile longer, and I put the box in the trash again, and I got it back out again.  Now it’s in the basement with more of his crap.  None of it is allowed to pass the doors of the house proper, and Katie has graciously offered to sort through it and pack it for shipping, involving me only to the extent she deems necessary.  Still, I’ll be working on the basement today, and I’ll be re-packing and storing his mementos, providing a despicable man a service he doesn’t deserve and for which I will receive nothing.  What the hell is my problem that I would do that?  Why would I help a person who has only ever hurt me?  How would I explain such a thing to Jenny and Reagan and LBE3?  That’s the sort of thing I think about.  But if I do it all how I mean to, I shouldn’t need to explain.  I don’t remember my Dad ever explaining to me how you’re supposed to treat other people, but I get it nonetheless.  There is a right way to do things and that’s how you do them, period.  And you don’t do right by others for their sake, you do it for yourself.  Being the sort of person who tries to be happy won’t save you from despair during the hard times when happiness is unattainable, whilst being the sort of person who tries to do what is right will.  In the former case, you know what you want.  The problem with that is that what you want will change; it is ground that shifts when you need it to be firm.  In the latter case, though, you know what you are.  No one can take that from you, and it will save you when no one and nothing else can.  So when you know what’s right, do what’s right.  Also, don’t do drugs, and if you’re stopped at a traffic light and the person in the car in front of you moves up a little to let you by so you can make a right turn, wave to that person in acknowledgment of the courtesy.  End of lesson.

I’m behind schedule on the week because of my mother, but she has my full attention now.  Yesterday reminded me that she’s won’t be finished until I finish her, and finish her I shall.  I didn’t want to have to bring over yet another carload of stuff from the Hole, but now I have seen and can say that there will be no more reinforcements.  The enemy’s reserves are exhausted and I am not.  So now I will attack everywhere, and if I am pushed back I will attack, and if I am imperiled I will attack, and if I can’t attack I will attack.  I will go floor by floor, and room by room, and box by box.  Every piece of it will go where it goes or it will be gone.

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