July 17th, 2005


I'm in HELL ...

OK, I knew this was not going to be pleasant, but it's turning out 1000% worse than I expected.

As noted previously, our building is replacing all of our window units (an example of which can be seen here, behind the xmas tree), and "our turn" comes up on Wednesday. This project requires us to have everything moved back 4 feet from the windows, and having access for them to get to the windows (which, when everthing that was within 4' of the windows is stacked up, is not the easiest thing to accomplish).

I've been spending the past week getting everything else done, but have now started in on my office. Now, my "office" began life as the "exile zone" of everything that The Wife did not want to have out in out our new apartment, so from the very start it was crowded, having to hold the vast majority of the "stuff" that I'd accumulated in ten years in my previous one-bedroom apartment, including (obviously) my entire library (the 10 bookcases on the walls also subtracting available floor space. In fact, the area betwen the desk an the window in the above picture, the length of two bookcases, was completely filled up with stuff that I had opted to keep over the years. Admittedly, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder was to blame for a lot of this, being that I find it VERY hard to throw out a mal-functioning VCR or boom box (hell, I used to be not be able to throw out the shipping boxes things came in!), but much of this stuff was things I like that I was simply not curently using, but might find the desire to at any given moment (a prime example of which is my old musical equipment, 3 guitars, 1 bass, a mike stand, 4 amps, a synth, a drum machine, and various mini-keyboards, etc. ... ALL of which The Wife is wanting to get rid of!).

Well, The Wife has announced that SHE should make the decisions on what stays and what goes. She obviously does not comprehend how psychologically entwined I am with some of this stuff, and, frankly, it sets me off into nearly-suicidal fits (in th emiddle of a screaming match, I destroyed one of the afore-mentioned boom boxes by bashing it violently onto my head over and over again ... I'm going to have owwies tommorrow!).

Unfortunately, I realize that The Wife "has plans" for my office becoming a "family room", which is going to involve the removal of ALL MY BOOKS, ALL MY FILES, and ALL MY COMPUTER EQUIPMENT. Frankly, I think it would just be easier for her to shoot me, because frm MY perspective what she's doing is bit-by-bit ERASING ME. I've given up hope of any good coming out of this. I guess it was good planning on my part when I quit taking all my supplements a few months back ... they were the only thing standing between me and a fatal heart atttack, and the deeper we go into this shit, the more just fucking DYING would be a blessed release.

Without my stuff I have NO CONNECTION to this physical world ... NONE ... if I don't have it around to geound me, to anchor me, to remind me of who I am and what I've done, I have NOTHING. Without these physical traces of what's happened, I have ZERO recall, without the little bits and pieces I can't create any history. And she's going to ERASE IT ALL. I might as well be dead now ... at least my Mom was dead when all her stuff got eradicated, me, I have to watch it ... hell, I have to do all the heavy lifting!

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