MFC
Yesterday it was pouring down rain and I went to lunch with the contractor after we inspected the three windows that are leaking into the addition. He presented me with a bill as I said that was three times what he said it would be a month ago. I bit my lip but couldn’t help it and started crying there in the restaurant. Such a girl. Good grief. I went on to drink five Cosmopolitans and thought about taking the remainder of my Xanax and calling it a day. He drank 7 cocktails and said he felt bad.
But we’re not finished. On Tuesday after Chrismas, he is going to present me a bid for finishing what absolutely has to get done for me to get a certificate of occupancy from the city. I’m none to impressed at what the cost is going to be. I thought a few months ago, when we spoke, that I needed $70K to finish. But now that has been absorbed into just getting to this point and I need an additional $50K just to get me in, not even to finish.
At one point when the conversation couldn’t get any worse, he raised his cocktail up and said Merry Christmas! And I said, no, that would be, Merry Fucking Christmas. The good old MFC.
As I lay in bed last night I thought about the options of just getting in the car with the Bean and heading to Mexico leaving all of this behind, much in the same way Steve was able to walk away from this monster that he created and go live his life footloose and fancy free. Typical response – too much, can’t deal, won’t. I thought about polishing off the bottle of Xanax and being remembered as a pitiful creature who just couldn’t take the overwhelming weight of all this any more.
I tossed and turned, and all that kept creeping back in the forefront of my mind was what my mother had said when I called her last night, weeping and bemoaning my lot, I told her I couldn’t take it anymore, I’m done – she told me, “you are so strong. if anyone can cope with the enormity of this, it is you, honey. I know you’ll find a way to handle it.”
And so, here’s to another day, and Merry Fucking Christmas to us all!