Goodbye Zephyr

Okay, now, see, THIS makes me sad.

My first boyfriend introduced me to Zephyr, and I can remember consuming many sundaes with him, his sister, and his sister's boyfriend. I lived not far from there for a year, when I was with CR on-and-off, and when my mom would offer to take me to dinner we would often end up there. And I know Firefly will be devastated when she reads this--gargantuan sundaes at Zephyr were always a highlight of her trips to Chicago.

I hate that things change. There's a Washington Mutual in the space where the all-night taco place used to be, a block or so from the place where I lived with JP; the building where we lived, or at least our portion of it, has also been torn down. It was bad enough when I drove past a year or so after he died and found that they'd put a cinderblock yuppie building in the lot next to our old bedroom window; that room always had the best morning sun, even if it only overlooked a scrubby vacant lot strewn with broken bottles and trash. When I drove by a couple of years ago and the whole apartment was gone...Yeah. You can imagine.

And yes, I understand: things change, and part of being a functional adult is learning to cope with change. I do fairly well with it--most of the time. It's when something I value is lost that I can't quite accept it. (I already live in fear of the day that something happens to Snickers. It's very scary to love something, you know? Even if "something" bites your toes and wakes you out of a sound sleep. Mister Snick and I will be having an extended conversation this evening, with the topic being "Kitty-Mom needs her sleep, and no one wakes YOU up by chomping on YOUR extremities, now do they??" I realize that it's futile to reason with a housecat, but that's never stopped me in the past.)

I don't think I'm terribly depressed today; I think this moody sort of icky feeling is largely due to the weather, overwork, and lack of sleep. (Tim--remember Tim? the guy with the cats?) called me at an impolitely late hour of the night and wants me to take the surviving beast-creature back again. Which: NO. I've been looking for a thesaurus with different options for "HELL no" but so far, no luck. I'm not getting back into THAT situation again. And of course he couldn't just say, "Hey, G, I'm in a little mess and I need somebody to watch Cassidy--any chance you can help?" Instead I get the whole story of his latest woes--the guy he was staying with skipped out on three months of unpaid rent, leaving Tim to get the five-day eviction notice, even though he's not on the lease and so on, so forth, etc. There is nowhere for him to go (though he's used to that) and no one else, he says, who can take the cat. Already I feel pressured to do this--even though I don't want to, even though it's not my responsibility.

Curiously enough, though, Tim may be the solution to another of my problems. I am now so far beyond "broke" that the skyline of Broke appears foggy in the distance, and though the situation is improving, it's improving s-l-o-w-l-y, and in a manner highly susceptible to setbacks. LJ, though he has been gone for a month now (yeah, really!) is still capable of costing money from a distance; I've now spent an entire paycheck on various automotive-related issues--which, by informal agreement when we bought the damn Tahoe, were to be HIS responsibility. Gas, insurance, sticker renewal, new tires, an oil change, and at least three months' worth of payments...This is not something I can keep doing indefinitely. Either LJ has to contribute, or he has to go. And if he goes, I'm thinking I may offer Tim a roommate-ship here at the Catastrophe. He has a job; he's straightened up his act considerably; I've lived with him before--before CR and I got back together, Tim and I shared a studio apartment for a year, and we got along very well--he's a good roomie, neat about common areas, keeps to himself, and doesn't do rude and inconsiderate shit. And if he can pay a modest amount of rent and a share of the utilities, I'd be more than willing to give him the spare bedroom. (He's also good at heavy lifting, has some carpentry experience, and would make a good helper for home-improvement projects.) It's a thought, anyhow; god alone knows I could use the money, and Tim would be a better roommate by FAR than LJ.

And roommates is all LJ and I are, anymore; in a couple of weeks, it will be a year since the last time we had sex. (Yeah, I know, too much info. Sorry.) Not only that, but the last time I talked to him I actually caught him in...not a lie, exactly, but a deception. That's all right; I can honestly say I feel almost nothing for him anymore. If he's cheating on me...well, so what? He's not here, and I'm not sending him any money; he's not paying what he owes me, but that's pretty much par for the course. I'm not crushed at the thought of him screwing around with someone else, the way I was when CR started.

In fact, I'm unhappier at the prospect of him coming BACK. His permanent absence would be a relief, to be honest. The house is looking...not GOOD, yet, but better. I've got some motivation to keep it clean, at least, knowing that it's not going to get all messed up just as soon as I turn my back again. There's nobody's hair-clippings in the sink; nobody's hamburger grease all over the stove; nobody's seeds and stems all over the tables. The dishes stay washed once I wash them; nobody fills the trash cans with 40-oz bottles. And without going into too much unnecessary detail? The absence of pee is a joy. It's starting to feel like MY HOUSE, finally--and about time, too, since today is three years to the day since we moved in. I feel like my life is starting to turn around at last; if I could just get the money situation under control, I'd be content, at the very least. Happy, even. And the thought that contentment might be possible, let alone happiness, is a huge improvement over, say, a year ago--when even "not miserable" seemed out of reach.

So yeah....apparently, SOME change is good. (But I'm still going to miss the butterscotch sundaes at Zephyr.)