Troubles With King Syndrome

Yesterday's post was put out late last night. And you may have noticed it didn't have a title. Today a post with a title OOPS!!! NOW it has a title...

I figured out why it took me so long to do it. And why it was essentially a lazy blog that was typed.

Why do you ask? Oh several negative emotions regarding the folk I live with.

These derive from something I call King Syndrome. King Syndrome is where a man escapes the confines of life as is has come to be and falls into a world where he feels things as are they SHOULD BE. I spent the weekend out with The Wife. I tend to do this at least a couple of times a month. This happens for a few reasons.

1. I need time away from these damn inmates! Prison, asylum, call it what you want. But that is what they be!
2. To see how well cared for mom will be in my absence. I can't be here all the damn time and those other people she is supporting need to step up and earn their comforts without my interference (being their safety net).
3. With my wife is WHERE I BELONG!
   
4. Some exit strategies need to be phased in slowly instead of being forced on the populace at large unexpectedly.
5. There is a great deal of leechism going on here and I am tired of being one of them. My living expenses are being provided for me by not me. So I make the best of it by making sure the person who is taking care of me is as well taken care of as I can manage.

I could go on but I think you are getting the point. Needless to say, that wen I am gone, I start to feeling like a king again! But then I return and find myself amidst a black hole of motivationlessness. Never thought I would look forward to getting out to class like I do. I am starting to regret taking that web class. I could be staring at the young and inappropriately dressed instead of staying stuck in the house. But I know why I did that one. 10% laziness and 90% not leaving her to them for that many days in a week. Although I am gonna have to get over that...

The problem with King Syndrome is that good times come to a rapid end. And I return to... this place... It ain't home...

But on my return I notice several things almost immediately that are not right. This destroys the afterglow naturally. Good emotions are replaced with bad. I find myself pissed off because nobody really bothers to clean up after the dog. This means noboby bothered to take him outside so he WOULDN'T need to be cleaned up after. I mean hell I hate doing it sometimes but it is like a preemptive strike. I would rather be cold and sleepily walking like a drunk than smell a wood floor that has been pissed on. And I find that things are out of place or plain missing. Man, I feel my blood pressure spiking right now. If suddenly start talking crazy or you see the same character repeat itself a bunch of times, it is because you witnessed a stroke at the keyboard. Just thinking about that backwards ass shit is pissing me off.

IDK. Maybe it is just me and I am a closet control freak and need to get my shit together and... Okay fuck that. I ain't the one fucked up. The more order I try to establish in this joint the more chaos ensues. It ain't me. Anybody who knows me knows two things about me (that apply to this situation...) 1) I am live and let live. If you ain't messing up my groove, I ain't gonna be in yours. 2) EVERYTHING has a place. I am no neat freak, in fact I am somewhat packratish. But I think that for things to exist in my space they have to have a purpose and a place. So living with folk who don't understand that keeping their shit to themselves keeps me outta that shit and we all are happy is a problem. And in addition those same people not understanding that utility of things (and people) having a purpose AND a place bother me to no end. Hell I can't even get my damn mail without going on a damn scavenger hunt. I done found mail with my name on it in every room in the joint. Strangely enough it never ends up in the ONE place I am guaranteed to see it, the chair I am sitting in now.

And don't let me turn my back too long. The stuff that is used to provide comfort and support for the person who is taking care of this House of Leeches will walk the hell off. Mom is the only person who can't bathe herself (unless Lil B. is in the house), so there are wash basins here for that purpose. Why did I spend a half-hour last night looking for one while constantly bitching about the FOUR of them missing when I was trying to get her cleaned up? And she needed a shirt change once I managed to get her clean. Why could I not find one of the FIVE shirts I got for her LAST MONTH when her clothes were washed and returned earlier in the day?

Anyway. I am getting tired of bitching today. And since you have spent all this time reading all of this, I give you The Money Shot!

I am really hating this place and these folk. So if I tell you I am coming to a town near you sometime next summer, know two things.

1. We gots to hang! Eat, drunk and get merry and all that shit.
2. You got homework. Because I will likely be in the area because of an opportunity, so I am gonna know where the GOOD spots to live in your town are.
3. If it is biker dude calling, I may be coming to steal a corner in some unused room, if you got one (yeah I know I said two...)

Much love!