So, yes I spent the summer using power tools I had no business using in the state I was in. I’d be so manic I hadn’t slept in a day or so. For some reason the old apartment building I lived in was sound proofed quite well (my apartment was sub-basement) and my upstairs neighbor could only hear the router (probably because its one of the loudest tools and my router table was right under her bed) and the table saw if the window was open. So, I would be up at 2 am piddling around in my “shop” making coasters and planters.
Then school started. I was really looking forward to it. I was taking two classes, against my better judgment. I knew it would be better to start off with just one class, but once I make a plan there is no talking me out of it. As the classes started I was excited, this is what I was talking about. The two courses were Romantic Attraction and Close Relationships and Leadership: An Historical and Literary Study. They seemed to be fascinating topics.
Unfortunately, my brain was not working correctly. Why should it? I hadn’t given it a medication in a month or so. I tried valiantly. In each class we had weekly posts to the class online bulletin board. The leadership class had a long paper due every two weeks. It was the Romance class that kicked my butt. Each week the professor gave us five to six questions to answer. Doesn’t seem hard does it. I received a C on my first assignment. What? I. DO. NOT. GET. Cs. We each get an email from the Professor with a critique. I did not come close to the amount of explanation he was expecting. The next week I work on it for three days, turn in a 7 page paper. A-. This is what he expects every week. There is no way I can handle the work of both of these classes.
The leadership class is turning into a business class. We’ve seen how well I do in that realm. The date to drop with a refund is coming near; I need to make a decision. I drop it. It might have been wiser to drop the Romance class and its mountain of work, but at least the topic keeps me going.
One fantastic byproduct of this school thing is I now have an excuse to tell the miscreants to go away “I’m doing homework, come back another day.” Besides there really is nothing left to steal. Someone even cleaned out my jewelry. None of it worth much, except for my Sweet 16 pearls. My new mantra: “its just stuff, its just stuff.”
But, I’m getting weird. I walk around the house talking to myself out loud. I’ve always talked to the dog and cat, but this is different. I’m explaining everything I’m doing. “I’m going to get up of the couch and walk down the hall to go get a diet pepsi. I am now walking down the hallway.”
One of my few real friends comes over one day; He looks at my house and is amazed/disgusted. This is a wonderful byproduct of the male gay friend. He makes you almost fashionable. He insists on cleaning and rearranging. He’s a big guy and just takes charge. I’m having a panic attack. He’s touching my stuff. I just follow him around talking under my breath. He can hear me but doesn’t pay attention. When we are done, its fantastic, a place for everything and you can see the carpet. He starts in on a lighting scheme. I tell him enough is enough; all I care about is my overhead lamp. I give him a big hug and send him on his way. Four hours with another person in the apartment is pushing it when it comes to my comfort zone.