History of the Weekend
Hahroo, survived another weekend, a weekend with my mother no less. I shouldn't say that, my mother and I get along really well, but it was a tad difficult to have her staying in the apartment. She usually gets a hotel room when she comes up, as opposed to sleeping on my couch, but due to budgetary concerns she decided to opt for the couch. I've been very anti-social ever since the wife left, and I felt quite annoyed at having another human in my habitat. I did, however, come through it just fine and we did have a good time.
I reneged on my pledge to not smoke on the weekend, but I did make the compromise of buying only one pack instead of two. I also made the rule that I would smoke only outside. This was a two-fold plan, one I would smoke less if I forced myself to go outside and two, it would keep the place from smelling like smoke when mother arrived. Eventually though, as I drank more, I decided that I didn't care if my mother knew I smoked and moved my activities inside. I believe my thought process was, "Fuck this, I'm 30 and I don't care what mom thinks, she'll just have to deal with it." Uh huh.
After going to bed at 3:30 or so, I catapult out of bed at 7:30ish and proceed to panic as the atmosphere of the apartment does its best impersonation of a seedy bar. I open all the windows, turn the ceiling fan on high and do a rabid search for Lysol; which, of course I didn't find until Sunday evening. Feeling desperation constrict its icy fingers around my throat I made an extreme decision. The cats were flung into the bed room and the door secured by a chair (side note: I live in a renovated apartment built circa 1960 and there isn't a right angle in the place, hence no doors close properly), I then flung open the doors to the outside world and even put the box fan in a window. Revelation finally hit me, and in the absence of air freshener I lit up some left over scented candles. Fortunately by the time mother arrived the place had cleared up. So much for my cutting the umbilical cord at this point. *sigh*
We braved the madness of North Park Mall, for what reason I'm still not sure, as we'd already done the shopping we'd intended to do. We went, we saw, we endured and I felt terribly uneasy amongst all those people. It was far too crowded, and there was far too much hustle and bustle. Admittedly North Park is quite enchanting at Christmas time and it was fun, I guess, to get out and experience the holiday madness. I was glad when we left though.
As a capper to the day we navigated the evening highways of the metroplex and braved the traffic to arrive at North Richland Hills in the mid cities. The goal of our endeavor was to watch the titanic clash of the undefeated Crawford Pirates and the 14-1 Troup Tigers as they wrangled for the State 2A Championship. Crawford prevailed 28-14, they were just a little bit better, a bit bigger and had a larger team than Troup, but the Tigers played a good game. Both teams ran the ball the majority of the time, so the game was over pretty fast, under two hours I believe. It was fun to watch them, I remember when Lorena won state when I was in 8th grade and that's one of my favorite memories from back then. It was nice to get to see others enjoy the excitement. I felt bad for Troup, I'd been silently rooting for them, but there was no shame in their defeat.
Sunday I was forced into going to church, which I've not wanted to do since the breakup, just too many memories there. It went alright though, but I was very ready to leave when the service ended. I did a little post-service greeting, but it was all while trying to move towards the exit. After lunch mom went home and I spent the rest of the day trying to get back into my routine.
Ugh, have to go work, perhaps more later.