Friends and Upset
Jim is really bummed out this morning. Late last night he learned that one of his friends going way back to elementary school, that was also in school with him in Indonesia and Nigeria died in a house fire. We know very few details, just that it was a house fire and he slept through it and the smoke alarms.
Jim and he both had parents who were professors that sometimes went to teach overseas. Jim had one of the most privileged childhoods you can imagine as far as traveling. By the time he was twelve he'd been around the world. I have his childhood passports here and they are filled up with stamps. His parents are how I ended up with Indonesian Delftware and those ivory carvings.
Yesterday was a pretty average day right up until bedtime and Jim learning of his friend's death. So average I was thinking about how so many of us do the daily, cook, clean, do laundry, without complaint or word but knowing that Lori Alexander of The Transformed Wife would still throw some sort of shade and insist we were doing it wrong.
We ran errands in the morning. I had to haul the new backup computer to the local computer shop where they know us all too well to get that missing battery charger. Fired off a complaint to the TSA for losing the cord and accessories in the first place. They pulled someone else's computer bag and tried to give it to me on the last search over my protests.
Brought the guys at the computer store some grapefruit and left with the right charger. We did things like pick up crates to store the tee shirts at church that the church sells, groceries, picked up water, went to the book store and finally stopped for the first time in two weeks to check mail.
While Jim was paying the yearly fee for our mail box I got the letters out of the box. I was puzzled by the one letter. It was written in a spidery feeble handwriting like you might expect from someone 90 years old with palsy. The address was completely unfamiliar, and it was addressed only to Jim.
It was a Christmas card from Mr. Steak. Oh my! I cannot tell you how surprised and dismayed I was by his writing. He must really be going down in a hurry. Three years ago at our house he'd been scaring me by the big boiled red patches of skin coming off his legs. Last winter we saw him in Florida over Christmas and he seemed better. Thinner, in control and not being a drooling idiot trying to score some ass. Now I don't know what to think.
After telling him off decisively and meanly a few weeks ago after he started trying to send me inappropriate online messages I've had no contact with him. Jim has, Jim confronted him and he swears he was hacked, it wasn't him. But it was. What is kind of funny about the whole thing is that Facebook banned him in that new profile, he set up two more and was banned again. He must just be a volcano of inappropriate harassing messages to women to end up repeatedly banned.
Now I'm starting to wonder if this inappropriate behavior is linked to something else, like perhaps an diagnosed head injury during that severe car accident he had five years ago. He always was weird and obnoxious, but not super sexual like he is now. The mind boggles.
Well, I'm off to mop floors and cook. being a super sinful feminist wife according to those who judge such things.
Jim and he both had parents who were professors that sometimes went to teach overseas. Jim had one of the most privileged childhoods you can imagine as far as traveling. By the time he was twelve he'd been around the world. I have his childhood passports here and they are filled up with stamps. His parents are how I ended up with Indonesian Delftware and those ivory carvings.
Yesterday was a pretty average day right up until bedtime and Jim learning of his friend's death. So average I was thinking about how so many of us do the daily, cook, clean, do laundry, without complaint or word but knowing that Lori Alexander of The Transformed Wife would still throw some sort of shade and insist we were doing it wrong.
We ran errands in the morning. I had to haul the new backup computer to the local computer shop where they know us all too well to get that missing battery charger. Fired off a complaint to the TSA for losing the cord and accessories in the first place. They pulled someone else's computer bag and tried to give it to me on the last search over my protests.
Brought the guys at the computer store some grapefruit and left with the right charger. We did things like pick up crates to store the tee shirts at church that the church sells, groceries, picked up water, went to the book store and finally stopped for the first time in two weeks to check mail.
While Jim was paying the yearly fee for our mail box I got the letters out of the box. I was puzzled by the one letter. It was written in a spidery feeble handwriting like you might expect from someone 90 years old with palsy. The address was completely unfamiliar, and it was addressed only to Jim.
It was a Christmas card from Mr. Steak. Oh my! I cannot tell you how surprised and dismayed I was by his writing. He must really be going down in a hurry. Three years ago at our house he'd been scaring me by the big boiled red patches of skin coming off his legs. Last winter we saw him in Florida over Christmas and he seemed better. Thinner, in control and not being a drooling idiot trying to score some ass. Now I don't know what to think.
After telling him off decisively and meanly a few weeks ago after he started trying to send me inappropriate online messages I've had no contact with him. Jim has, Jim confronted him and he swears he was hacked, it wasn't him. But it was. What is kind of funny about the whole thing is that Facebook banned him in that new profile, he set up two more and was banned again. He must just be a volcano of inappropriate harassing messages to women to end up repeatedly banned.
Now I'm starting to wonder if this inappropriate behavior is linked to something else, like perhaps an diagnosed head injury during that severe car accident he had five years ago. He always was weird and obnoxious, but not super sexual like he is now. The mind boggles.
Well, I'm off to mop floors and cook. being a super sinful feminist wife according to those who judge such things.
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