Sorry. Somehow I was assigned my own personal demon at a frighteningly early age and he's been here every since. It's hard to get around him to say things and so today's post is late. I also drew the 'mow the lawn' card which takes like five hours so take what you get, okay? Mowing consists of some brilliant idea I had to clean the mower first so it was shiny, then to wrestle it around. Then to get a rhythm only to have it broken by doubt when I look up to see six sets of eyes 'checking in', a trip out to me by Henry who offered to take over, a refusal to let him take over and then the finishing, which takes longer than the mowing, in which I hose down the whole point because it makes it look pretty.
I have a new rule, in case you noticed: Any time Caleb puts drugs in my food in the present tense, I will tell one of his past-tense awful stories. And the night before last I stopped in to see him, to return a book, his sweater and bring up his glasses, which were still on the table in the front hall. He offered a drink, red wine, as it was supposedly what he had on hand, in two different glasses, which should have been a red flag, and then Bridget got red wine + xanax and a quick trip to snoresville.
I drank the wine fast, because I had somewhere to be and then I wasn't anywhere, I was so dopey I asked if I could take a quick nap and when I woke up far too early in the morning with shaking hands I knew instantly what he pulled and we had a sunrise shouting match followed by a whole lot of threats, I went off and wrote about one of our Vegas trips, then we had a mid-afternoon shouting match followed by an evening of threats and I went to bed in tears and woke up to find all of my devices missing this morning.
So after mowing I had to go find them. I found my ipad, my laptop and my headphones. I did not find my phone yet. Ben can get it back for me later if it doesn't turn up. In return I left Caleb's bed full of grass clippings and have resolved to tell more stories louder if he doesn't fuck off with doing dangerous things like putting benzos in my alcohol and then not telling me. He insists my fighting weight means I won't make it off the bed let alone out of the house and it's perfectly safe and then in the next breath threatens to end it all just to make a point. I hand him off to the thug-boys (those who do my dirty work) and go cry while I look for my phone a little more and then I give up and go next door to wait out the day with Daniel.
Then I get madder so I come back, demand my phone, we reach an agreement about unwarranted drugs and unwarranted stories that don't need to be told (don't worry, I lied about agreeing to anything. Caleb probably did too) and it's been a long day so I'm probably just going to go take a xanax, have a glass of wine and go to sleep early.
Right.
Right.
Maybe if I do that I'll reverse time and my phone will appear back in the pocket of my dress. If not I'll just take the credit card he gave me and order a new, better one. And maybe a better demon, if I can find one.