That about sums up March in a nutshell. I hooed and hawed over how I wanted to write this update, strongly considering for a while to just say "March sucked" and leave it at that. But me being me wouldn't allow that to happen, let alone the fact that I did not write once during the entire month. I meant to a couple times actually, but the time got away fromt me and eventually everything fell apart and I had no drive to do it. But it's the 31st today, Easter Sunday, and tomorrow makes it a new month. And somehow maybe that erases this one and will give me another fresh start.
It started like any other March before to be perfectly honest. In like a lion with a snow storm, then rain, then more snow. Further dashing any hopes or dreams as to an early spring like we had been granted in the wonderful 2012. Maybe that was the first hint that things weren't going to be so easy and breezy; you were given a big break last year but this time, not so fast me thinks.
I'd been going back and forth since the holiday season ended over whether I wanted to buy a house or rent a duplex for my impending move. Which would be the smarter move in the long run? My opinion changed weekly on what I was going to do and that in and of itself was annoying. You are 100% certain one day about what you are going to do, only to change your mind a few days later. Indecision is a killer, ladies and gentlemen. I met with a realtor and good friend of mine, Brenda, and we discussed what the process of buying would look like. She gave me the numbers of a few mortgage lenders and told me to give them a call to see where I was and where I should go. After following her advice and doing so, I realized I would need until the fall to save up the amount of money I would need to put down on a house and that was a lot longer than I wanted to stay out at the manor.
That isn't to say I had a problem living with my parents by any means. By all accounts I loved it. But being 27 and approaching the two year mark since moving back in with them, I felt the time had more than come for me to get back on my own two feet and move out on my own like I always intended to. Albeit, I didn't intend for it to take this long. Aside from my duration of stay, the drive back and forth to work (re: Appleton) was starting to get to me and I just wanted to be near my friends again but on my own terms. Nothing wrong with that, right?
It was around this point that I put together the teaser for the vlog (video blog for those unfamiliar with the term.) I was going to write a whole post about the vlog experience and maybe I still will, but right now the point in doing so seems to be lost and I'm still looking for a way to recapture it. The point of the vlogs is to create a new format to share my thoughts with ya'll outside of the written word. I'll still write these blog posts (more frequently than I did in March,) and the videos will just be an added treat once or twice a month. They'll probably deal with the "multiples" quite often, and maybe some day I'll figure out how to have two of us in the same shot at once. Until then, here is the teaser if you haven't seen it already:
That was posted on March 14th, and at that point everything was still going very well. I had seen an apartment listed on Craigslist while I was making the teaser and decided to make a call on it. I had never in my life thought about living in an apartment because the whole idea just turned me off. But this one looked nice, it was less than a year old, and until that point I hadn't had ANY luck finding a duplex I liked. So I got a call back from the landlord and would go to take a tour of it the next day. This is when it all starts to go down hill.
I met with the landlord, Jill, at 9:30 the morning of Friday the 15th. She was a character, for sure, and I had a good time talking with her and seeing the place. It was a second floor unit that was finished in July and hadn't been occupied for months due to the previous tenants moving out of state and not trying to break their lease. Two bedrooms, one bath, washer and dryer in unit, heat and water included, cats allowed, yadda yadda. It bore a startling resemblance to an "apartment-ized" version of my duplex in Wrightstown and immediately I felt comfortable with the similarity. I left around 10 telling Jill I'd be in touch later in the day if I wanted it or not. I knew I did, I just needed to process it a bit more in my head and crunch the numbers to figure out where I would land each month in terms of bills. After getting back to the manor I talked to mom about it and then made the decision to apply.
Here we go.
Mom and I sat down to watch Pitch Perfect because I'd been ranting about it and felt it was a good day to have a laugh. Our St. Patrick's (couple days early) roast beef was on the stove and the house smelled great. 30 minutes into the movie we got a call from my aunt saying that my grandfather's health had taken a sudden and serious turn, and that hospice was informing her she should call family and get them to Indiana. It didn't really hit me right away when my mom told me the news before calling my dad, and I don't know why. Maybe part of me thought it was just like any other time he'd gotten sick and he'd pull through it? I don't know.
Dad came home from work though and within 20 minutes they had packed bags and were off to Indianapolis. I kind of putzed around the house for an hour or so, tidying up because my friend Scout would be coming over for dinner later. He wasn't originally, but seeing as it was just me and there was a lot of food and I needed company, he was kind enough to acquiesce. My phone rang and it was Jill from the apartment, letting me know that I got it and that I should come over to sign the lease right away. And that was great news, really, because it was a silver lining on what had become a sad day.
So I changed my clothes and drove back to Appleton and signed my life and money away on the carbon copies she presented to me. I would be moving in one week, on the 23rd. The rest of the day went by without much news to share. I started packing up my bedroom, talking to my mom and letting her know what was up. She was excited for me but it was one of those bittersweet things. Scout came over for diner and we watched a movie and that was that. Then came Saturday.
Great day, overall. Work was a breeze and went by quick and those are always the best kinds of days. I went to @markstyleme's house afterward because he and his partner Clone would be going to dinner with Scout and I to celebrate St. Paddy's day. @markstyleme and I always spend this holiday together, it's kind of our thing. After a quick change and some cocktails, we went to Bennigan's for dinner and had a great time, and then to a few bars downtown. It wasn't really busy out (it was still too early) so by the time 11:00 rolled around we decided to just call it a night. Grabbing some food at Festival and playing Wii for the rest of the night seemed to be the perfect end. Nope.
with @markstyleme
with ScoutWe got to Festival and started walking across the parking lot. Yes, we had been drinking, but by no means were we drunk. I can't speak for Mr. V as he's a lightweight, but I myself was not drunk. A slight buzz at the most. @markstyleme started playing (I can't believe I'm sharing this) "Don't Rain on My Parade" on his phone, the Glee version, and we started dancing through the parking lot. I was high kicking, he was doing something else, and at one point I decided it'd be a good idea to leap in joy. I landed on the side of my left foot, which then proceeded to roll underneath me as I crashed to the asphalt. And in hindsight it's funny, and at the time it was funny because my foot immediately went numb and I didn't understand the severity of what had happened because it never had before, but shortly after it wasn't very funny at all.
Though the concern was appreciated, I felt like everyone was making a big deal out of nothing and insisted that I was fine. We walked through the store and it just got worse. My limp got worse. There was so much adrenaline running through me that I was shaking, my limbs were shaking, and I felt like I was going to throw up. When we got back to the house @markstyleme grabbed an icepack from the freezer and put in on my ankle that had quickly swollen to about the size of a grapefruit. Yup, a definite sprain. I was starting to get tired and so was everyone else, so after some pizza I texted @klreynol telling her I'd hurt my ankle pretty bad. Then I was asleep.
3 hours later, at 3:28 am, I woke up and looked around. Scout was passed out on the couch, I had moved to the floor and had to pee. I got up, my ankle in pure agony, and hobbled to the bathroom. When I laid back down @klreynol texted me back and asked how I was doing. We texted back and forth for a few minutes (she was awake because of the baby) and she suggested I go to the ER. It was at least a sprain but it could be a fracture and that wouldn't be fun for anybody. I felt stupid but she assured me it was ok and told me she'd come pick me up. I managed to get upstairs for my clothes and when I came back down I had another text message, this one from my mother.
"grandpa's with grandma now. hospice called, they found him about ten minutes ago."
It's one of those moments where you instantly start to tear up for a multitude of reasons. Maybe it was general pain in my ankle coupled with the information I'd lost my last grandparent and tied together with the general shittiness of the night. Scout heard me and moved to the floor next to me and gave me a hug, and then @klreynol was there and I had to go. I managed to navigate the snow and ice outside @markstyleme's door and got into her van. Driving down the street in mostly silence, I mumbled "I think all of this is just going to hit me at once." And she took my hand, my oldest friend, and we drove to the hospital that way. Sometimes you don't need to say much about a situation for someone that close to you to just... understand it.
I stayed mostly upbeat when we got to the hospital. @klreynol knew the drill and helped me out and then I was moved to a room and told by the chubby gay nurse to get undressed (which I could have done WITHOUT him in the room, as clearly I'm not so retarded and paralyzed that I can't put a stupid gown on.) He left though and I told @klreynol to snap a picture because this shit was just too good and I hadn't been to the ER since I was 12 years old. We had all sorts of nurses and doctors coming in and I did my best to make them laugh as 1) it was 4:30 in the morning and 2) this was a bunch of bullshit as to why I was there anyway; dancing like a HUGE fairy in the Festival parking lot and I busted by fucking ankle.
After the X-Rays and general chit chat and we found out there was no fracture but just a really nasty sprain, I was outfitted with crutches and an air-cast, my foot was wrapped and we were on our way. Not the best St. Patrick's Day celebration but hey, I'm Irish! @klreynol dropped me off at @markstyleme's and I went back to sleep for a few hours, and then we were all awake and I drove home to the manor to sleep some more and deal with the pain I was in. I'd already called work and announced I'd be coming in late for my shift. And I did, and the shift sucked balls, but that's the name of that tune.
All I wanted to listen to on the drive home from @markstyleme's, from work, from everything, was "Cry," because it's just how I felt. Not the original version, but the Glee version, because Glee was what got me into this mess in the first place. Nothing much happened the following day but it was decided I'd be going down to Indiana with my sister on Wednesday because the service for my grandfather would be on Thursday. It started to snow Monday night though, and when I thought maybe things would kind of be alright, they dropped again.
I'd like to point out that she sings the words "Is it over yet, can I open my eyes? Is this as hard as it gets? Is this what it feels like to really cry?"
Nope.
End of Part I.
No comments:
Post a Comment