I was robbed. Not in the ‘you mean I can play video games for a living?’ sense, but in the ‘some prick busted through my door and took things that did not belong to him’. My video game system was taken (and the games and the controller), not to mention some heirlooms. In the grand scheme of things, everything is replaceable (well, not the heirlooms, but they’re not mine) and the door can be fixed. What can’t be replaced immediately is my sense of well-being. My house is the only place where I feel completely safe. Every other place, I feel as if I am walking through enemy territory. I get so wired for combat (perceived or otherwise) that when I get home, I am utterly spent. That’s why I’m such a homebody. Out of my little circle of friends, I only have three people that I trust to come in: The hatch maid with no fins and representatives. Thanks to my signature liquor – I am doing a lot better now.
At least I got a day off out of it. On Saturday, they’re going to replace the broken door. My other writing has suffered a little, but I can be back on the saddle soon. I just need to get over the overwhelming desire to find this person and do things to him that would make the Marquis de Sade flinch. Now I feel drunk. So, I am afraid that this particular post will come to an end soon – other than what’s happened, there is nothing new here. I promise to write a longer piece when I have something better to expound upon.
Seething With Apathy