I felt so good about my plan today, relaxed and ready to sit with my drink and write. I opened the door of the pub to a lecture in progress and many eyes had turned toward me as I entered.
Welp. Not writing there tonight.
I tried looking at the other spot I know I can write but that place looked busy on maps so I decided to nix that idea and head to a nearby park. I’m sitting here on the corner looking at the trees and dogs playing, and I still had to make myself pick up the computer to type.
I need to go home and tend to some things there. There’s a basket full of dirty dishes I’ve been moving around for what feels like weeks. I should clarify that I soak and rinse the dishes before I put them in the basket, so it’s not as if there’s smelly food covered dishes everywhere. There’s food that’s gone bad in my refrigerator that needs to go out. I bought two whole chickens from Costco last week to break down and portion out the white meat to make protein easier for myself. I took the white meat off the bone and put it in one container in the fridge. Two days later (okay I don’t know how many days it was) I go through all of that white meat with a fine tooth comb and freeze most of it, leaving some out for a couple of meals this week. I opened the container I had set aside the next morning and it smelled off. What this means is I’ll end up throwing away all the chicken (frozen too) because I can’t trust it. I have no idea how long food is supposed to last once it’s opened, and it’s hard to tell sometimes. Between that and the produce that rots in the door still in its packaging, I throw away so much money in food. I should figure out a way to quantify that. I’d just need to keep my receipts for awhile. Freddie’s receipts are in the Kroger app, Costco in theirs, the only ones that aren’t are WinCo, hmm.
Now that’s going to process in the background until I figure out a way to solve that problem.
The food is only half of the problem. The other half is the kitchen/cooking situation where I live. Not everyone has the same tolerance levels when it comes to “kitchen dirty” which often leads to no one doing anything to maintain a consistent level of base clean. I cared for the first year I lived there. I tried to participate in rules we all agreed to follow and everyone else’s effort just drops off. It’s defeating to have to scrub grime off countertops or the stove just to be able to use it. Plus all of my cold products now live in the garage refrigerator, so I have to carry all of my supplies back and forth. They like to cook things that are not received well by my nose so I try to stay in the garage if possible during those times. Curry, Brussel Sprouts, Steamed Broccoli, Raw Onions.
There’s also tension about little things that feel ridiculous to have to deal with. This is why I need to get my own place.
I know it can be done, I need to sit down and figure out the financials. Which means I need to reconcile October with what my previous understanding of my accounts was (August) and reset those goals. If I can pay off my Capital One card that I used to get out here on my original journey and back home when my Dad died, then I can start saving that extra money as cushion so I can afford my own place. But that also means doing temporarily scary things like changing my phone service to a cheaper plan, and changing my direct deposit options with my payroll company. These aren’t entire walls of awful, but they’re certainly decent sized bricks.
I might be moving across the river into Portland proper, doing things like still having my car but not driving everyday and using public transportation when it’s feasible. I need to think about what kind of daily experience of living I want to have and manifest that environment. I think a pet would be a good idea to help me along this re-parenting part of the journey, but I need to be in my own place for that to work. It’s another tick in the column of motivation for me to save and pay that shit off so I can make my own place a reality. I have to think about what I want my actual life to look like. I don’t think I’ve ever sat down and thought about it with just me at the center. It wasn’t so long ago I thought I knew what it would look like, but that relationship was yet another example of my traumatic attachment pattern playing out its story through my lived experiences. For context see: Patterns
I feel like I’ve gone down a rabbit hole here, and it’s fully dark outside now. But here’s to Day 3 in the books, I hung with it and fought off a curve ball. Count is 2-1, bitches.