One of the guys who works in the warehouse lost his wife last week. I don’t know him really at all, but he’s probably in his early 40’s and always seemed like a pleasant guy. Apparently, his wife had been losing weight but no one knew why, and then she just died in her sleep last week. And he had to wake up next to his dead wife that morning.
Sometimes I feel like life is just so absurd. Like…why do I make it such a big deal when shit like this can and does happen every day?
I had a peaceful, relaxing, sometimes melancholy (but sometimes not) weekend. I spent Saturday morning cleaning the house and my kitchen hasn’t been this clean in a while. Makes me happy. The bedroom is not clean, but hey, I’ve never been an overachiever. I spent basically the whole weekend at home by myself, and enjoyed it overall, but whenever I spend weekends at home they always make me feel Matt’s absence poignantly. I don’t cry nearly as much these days, but I still miss Matt so much – every day. I still want to talk to him, laugh with him, show him things I’ve done, touch him, make him sandwiches.
And thinking about future romantic relationships, while exciting some of the time, also just make me tired. Makes me want to just hang out with women and gay men. Sort of.
It just doesn’t feel Christmas-y at all to me. I haven’t even wanted to watch any Christmas movies yet, not even It’s a Wonderful Life. I have one present wrapped, too. The rest are sitting on the table in the living room, surrounded by wrapping supplies. Blah.
No Promises This Time 