I actually made it through the summer. Holy Shit

JUNE  2011

I am sick of “I.” Sick of making every fucking choice for every fucking aspect of my fucking life. I crave “we” and “us” and “our” Even simple choices like whether to thaw out pork chops or turkey burgers seems daunting. Everything is up to me. Everything. The grass needs to be cut. Vivian needs new shoes. I have neither a pension nor retirement fund. There is no milk in the fridge. Vivian’s tricycle needs to be put together. There is a terrifyingly huge raccoon living under the deck. The electric bill came in red writing. Madeline has a dentist appointment. The shower drain is slow.  It’s garbage day. The Camry needs a new battery. Taxes have to be filed. Does the porch light require a certain bulb? The laundry tub is overflowing. Vivian has to be potty trained. Medicaid insurance papers came in the mail. Netflix isn’t working and the whole HDTV needs to be rebooted. Madeline failed her hearing test. What the fuck is an allen wrench?

I am drowning in a sea of oil changes and school supplies and bank balances and check ups. Each new day brings another wave of responsibility that crashes on top of me pushing me further and further underwater.

It’s 8 o’clock in the morning on a crappy Tuesday. Freddie Mercury is posthumously performing in my bedroom. He rung up Bowie & the two got together for a special morning jam session:

”Pressure pushing down on me
Pressing down on you no man ask for
Under pressure - that burns a building down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets
Um ba ba be
Um ba ba be
De day da
Ee day da - that's o.k.
It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming 'Let me out'
Pray tomorrow - gets me higher
Pressure on people - people on streets
Day day de mm hm
Da da da ba ba
O.k.
Chippin' around - kick my brains around the floor
These are the days it never rains but it pours”

When the song is over I tell Freddie he looks fantastic, all things considered. I share with him that “Fat Bottomed Girls” actually speaks to me.  He is wearing a bedazzling spandex jumpsuit and asks me where the nearest gay bar is. I tell him I am a total fag hag & actually manage one. I give him directions to PRONTO! and instruct him to tell Kurt I sent him in. I ask Dave if Iman is pissed that he had help me get out of bed this morning. He assures me she’s fine with it.  Laughing bitterly I think really, what are my options? There are two little girls sleeping down the hall that need me. ME. Not an 800 pound drunk chain smoking version of me. Because if I had my way I would by lying in bed with a Jet’s pizza, bottle of Pinot Noir, & carton of Marlboro Lights. They need their MOM. And as broken and battered as I am right now, I’m still the one. Most days I both thank & curse God for that title.
 
I thank Freddie & Dave for stopping by & swing my legs off the bed on to the floor. It’s time to start another day.

JULY 2010

It’s time to move. I’ve essentially been squatting here biding my time until I figured out what I was going to do. I finally got up the courage to call my landlord. Clarence. He’s a 78 year old black man who lives in Texas and refers to himself in the third person. “Now don’t you worry, darlin’ ol’ Clarence isn’t about to put you and your babies out on the street, ya hear?” I’ve never met him, but I love him. George Bailey had Clarence Odbody and I have Clarence Hall.

I mentally prepare for this conversation the way I envision a professional athlete prepares for the big game: lots of hype. I think of scantily clad cheerleaders jumping around my yard waving their pom poms shouting “Gimme an ‘A’—A—gotta  have an ‘A’! Gimme an ‘M’---M---gotta have an ‘M’! Gimme a ‘Y’---Y---gotta  have a ‘Y’ What does it spell AMY! I can’t hear you! AMY! I still can’t hear you…AMY!!!

As I reach for the phone, the crowd goes wild. I can hear Chris Berman now: “There she is, ladies & gentlemen, Amy Pugh. Did you see how she picked up that telephone and began pressing those numbers? She is actually following through! This will NOT be an incomplete pass! She could. Go. All. The. Way!"  The 69 Boyz - "Tootsee Roll" starts up as the phone begins to ring. I want to hang up and run back to bed. Too late. “Hello, there!”  Clarence booms his greeting to me. He’s so sweet. I explain that I’ve tapped out all the possibilities of staying here and that the movers are set for the end of next month. (Movers are being provided courtesy of my brother. My younger brother. My younger and infinitely more successful brother. To be continued in therapy)