My boyfriend keeps trying to talk me into marriage.

I've always been the type of person that has never really wanted the "traditional" adult life. It was never my goal to grow up, get married, have babies. And yes, if being raised in the holler has taught me anything, it's that "role" is considered what's traditional.... a little 1920s, but I'm assuming that's what makes it "traditional."

The point is, I never really had a "plan" for my life. I just always wanted to live by my own rules and I've always been the kind of person that dealt with a situation as it presented itself. My "grand plan" for life was basically just to work, take care of my family (ie: Momma and my pups), and try to be as happy as what I could.

After losing Momma, I've come to realize now more than ever that my "plans" for lack of a better phrase.... aren't working like they're f*cking supposed to.

In fact, I'm not even really sure what in the hell to do with myself in general.

But, I know that Momma would want me to try and be as happy as I possibly can be. And while that's much easier said than done.... I'm trying. And she's probably metaphorically kicking my ass right now for not being better at it, but what can I say?!

I am, without a shadow of a doubt, my mother's daughter.

Insert Pook.

It's pretty commonly known (at least for the people that personally know us well) that we were high school sweethearts. We lived together for almost two years (long story for another day) and were apart for eleven. Then one day, we decided that we wanted to be together again (in no small part, because Momma told us to basically suck it up and admit to some shit). He made the decision be the one to relocate and since he made the trek up we've been learning to incorporate ourselves into each others lives again. Luckily, we were always good at being friends as well as being in a relationship.

He's much more traditional than I am. For as long as I've known him, he's always talked about marriage and kids and "tradition" and such. We never really talked about it when we were in high school (because why would we?), but I always knew his stance on it all.

Now that we're older, he's changed his mind on many things. Not all things, but many of them. He no longer wants to have kids, but his stance on marriage hasn't swayed all that much. In fact, if anything, he very much wants to be married. And he mentions it all the time. Seriously, there are very few days that he doesn't mention it at least once.

And I find myself.... not necessarily hating the idea.

I mean, I still don't want kids and will probably never change my stance on that, but marriage doesn't seem all that terrifying to me. You know.... eventually. I don't want to get married tomorrow or anything, but I can't say that one day I might want to. For me to say that, it's a BIG deal. Also, can people just be "engaged" for an endless amount of time? Because that ship I can totally sail on.

Furthermore, as I said earlier, my "life plan" hasn't exactly gone according to any plan that I've ever put into place (therefore, can I even really call it a plan at this point?), so I keep finding myself thinking about it. Making a pro/con list you might say.

My biggest "hold up"? The fact that Momma wouldn't be here for it. Even though I've never wanted to be married, I honestly thought if the day ever came that I changed my mind, Momma would be here with me. In fact, I thought Momma would be here for every big decision in my life. She always has been and even with everything that's happened to us in the past and up until January, it never occurred to me that one day I might have to make these big decisions by myself.

And I don't care for it.

Don't get me wrong, she never made my decisions for me. I've always been very independent when it came to my life, but she's always been here for moral support and advice. Not too mention, I always just felt safer knowing she had my back. But now, I'm on my own.

Except for Pook. He's now the one that is there for me and has my back. And I love him for that. He wants to make sure I'm safe and feel loved. And he accomplishes both of those things. I can take care of myself and he nevers questions it, he's just there if I need him.

And to tease me into marrying him.

I don't know if we ever will, but I have to say, if I ever did, I could never pick anybody better to make that leap with.

I'm super pissed off that Netflix cancelled Santa Clarita Diet.

Questions that I need answers to, but will never have, because Netflix is being a big bag of dicks:

#1: What does Mr. Ball Legs do?

#2: Is Joel a zombie undead now?
 
   #2 Subsection #1: If he is, what does that mean for him being a Knight of Serbia?
 
   #2 Subsection #2: Whether he is transformed or not, how will he handle this? Either he is and he'll have to learned to deal with that. Or, he isn't and he'll have to deal with the fact that he almost was and Sheila almost lost him like he almost lost her.

#3: Are Abby and Eric ever going to actually hook up?

   #3 Subsection #1: I know that they're teenagers and that's generally not a starting point for a "long term" thing, but COME ON, there is nobody better together than them. Well.... except for Joel and Sheila at least.

#4: Is Anne ever going to stop telling people or are they going to have to take her out?

#5: Is someone else going to be importing the infected clams from Serbia? (I mean, it's happened before.)

#6: How many zombies undead are there at this point?!

#7: What the f*ck will Gary do now?!

#8: Why do they always cancel the shows that I love?!!

Our water heater has been out of commission since last Thursday.

Ok, I don't want to be one of "those people" but I'm gonna go ahead and say it....

F*CK 2019. F*ck it. The whole f*cking thing. It can eat a bag of dicks.

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
_____________________________________

I officially have to leave work today (for an extended lunch), so that I can meet a fourth person at my house to try and see if we will ever get to have hot water again. (I'm beginning to doubt that we ever will and I kind of just want to scream very loudly).

That's right. A FOURTH PERSON.

Last Thursday, I noticed our water heater was acting a little wonky, but assumed the pilot light had gone out, as they're prone to do. So, on Friday I relit the pilot light and.... nothing. I had to call a repairman to come out (no easy feat to accomplish on Easter weekend) on Saturday and he had to order a part.... that didn't come in until yesterday. So needless to say, once I got a call yesterday saying that a repairman could be at my house within thirty minutes to fix us up, I was so damn happy.

And then.... happiness short-lived.

The guy switched out our gas valve (the supposed culprit of all our woes), but the pilot light continued to go out and won't stay lit to save the damn queen. I called last night and they said they would send another repairman out this morning. This morning came (Pook went into work later so he could be home for that appointment) and that guy had to call a fourth guy.

[[ Side note: Aunt Poot has been letting us shower at their house (thank y'all!!) and I've been old schooling it and heating up water on the stove to do dishes and such. #IGrewUpPoorSoIKnowWhatsUp #MyMommaDidntRaiseNoPrincess ]]

UPDATE: my "extended lunch" turned out to not be extended at all and we had to order ANOTHER  part to fix this f*cking water heater. Apparently there's a glass vial on the inside of this water heater to make it function, which has to be one of the stupidest things I've ever f*cking heard and it shattered (because duh, of course it did it's f*cking glass squished between metal and mechanical entities). It should be here by tomorrow and installed either in the afternoon or the next day. (The only reason it's being fixed instead of replaced is because all the parts are covered by its warranty). So, we may or may not have a functioning water heater by the weekend.

Or, you know, by the time that I'm f*cking forty or something equally as dramatic as that statement.

Nonetheless still trying.

It's been almost three months since I lost Momma. Eighty days. And somehow, it still feels unreal and like it all happened this morning. I have little flashes go through my head and swear I can hear everything that happened like it's still happening right there, no matter where I am.

I'd be lying if I said I haven't been struggling. There are days that it feels like it might be better than others and then the next day comes and it's like starting all over.

I'm still unsure of what to do with myself and while I try to remember only good things and keep myself busy, it doesn't seem to be helping.

I thought that starting a few house projects might help me stay busy and keep my mind occupied, but I find myself so exhausted that it's sometimes hard to make it through the day, let alone do other things.

I've always been a prompt "get out of bed as soon as the alarm goes off" type of person. Never one to dilly-dally or hit snooze. But now, I find that no matter what I reset that alarm without fail every single morning. And it's not so I can get more sleep, because sleep eludes me. It's because sometimes I honestly feel like I can't get out of bed.

It takes every single bit of strength I have to pull myself up and start moving.

I no longer fix my hair or wear makeup, but manage to brush my teeth, wash my face, and get dressed.... most days. And those couple of things bring me to the point of exhaustion so quickly that the rest of my effort is used for quite literally dragging myself through the day. Honestly, dragging.... as in all of the energy of effort I can muster at one given time.

And some days, I feel like I might drop.

I try. I'm trying. And I feel guilty for not "doing more" but also can't seem to shake off the weariness that now seems to not only be ever persistent, but a permanent fixture in my life.

I've always prided myself on keeping a clean house.... my house is a wreck more now than not most days. I've always smiled through my work days even when I wasn't having a good day.... I can barely drag myself in each morning and afternoon. Pook is forever trying to help and do what he can to make me feel better and happy.... it's not his fault, he tries, I try, but some days I can't seem to focus enough to even have a conversation. I love cooking and baking.... but now find that I would rather have takeout or chicken nuggets, because the process of physically standing to cook or bake in any capacity makes me want to collapse. The thought of being around people gives me anxiety attacks.

Actually, anxiety attacks are now a regular occurence, as well. More often than not, I kind of just want to lay on the couch in the fetal position and not have any light anywhere in the house.

But, I'm trying. Because as I've said before, and I will be forever convinced of, she would kick my ass if I didn't.

Nah, it’s cool, I didn’t wanna make tater salad with these anyways. 🤮

Rainy Sundays are for movie marathons, all the booze, and pup cuddles.

I had the most ridiculous f*cking argument with my dilhole of a brother.

In honor of National Sibling Day (4/10) my brother and I got along for a day and then proceeded to have the most ridiculous argument that two grown ass people could ever have.

About the Twilight movies.

Yes, you read that right. Two grown ass adults. And the Twilight Saga.

Momma had to be rolling her eyes and be as completely confused as everyone else would have been. Why do I know this? Because I know my mother and not only did she agree with me, but she was rolling her eyes extensively.

Because it was f*cking ridiculous.

And because, I WAS F*CKING RIGHT.

First off, I was already kind of in a mood before he and Pook got home from work. Well, not really a "mood" but I was emotional. I watched an episode of Bones and for some reason I just started crying and was unable to control myself, the whole time not really knowing why, but since that happens to me more often than not lately, moving on.

Because of this emotion, I wasn't saying a whole lot. I basically just let my brother roll on and on about all the various things that I obviously had an opinion on, but didn't care enough to engage in a conversation about.

It was almost like he was picking at random small things to see if he could get to me though. Finally, he made some off handed comment about our internet, asked a question, hated the answer I gave him, and decided to be a giant smartass. I essentially told him my exact thoughts on the matter and offered no follow up.

This seemed to irritate him even more than usual (he LOVES to argue with any and every one and thinks he's right far more often than he is), so he decided to not only start another ridiculous argument with me, but also tried to involve Pook in the matter to try and get us to argue with each other.

The thing about Pook and I though, is that we don't fight or argue. Like, ever. We have moments where we disagree with each other, but we always just talk it out and if it's unimportant let it go. It's just how we've always been. (It probably helps that we're very similar and our friendship was there before, after, and all throughout the time we've known each other). Pook wouldn't take the bait and outrightly told him so. In fact, his exact words were, "yeah, you're not tricking me into this argument or a fight with your sister, nice try though."

What can I say? The man knows when to hold'em. And when to fold'em. He knows when to walk away. And he knows when to run. Sorry, I'm getting sidetracked.

Before they had gotten home I decided to watch some tv (I've not been feeling the greatest this week, I'm continuously tired and can't seem to shake whatever "this" feeling is, so I've put off cleaning my house for a week.... something I'm going to have to rectify when I get off work today whether I feel like it or not) and while I made the decision to watch tv, I wasn't necessarily interested in anything, so I ended up watching the most ridiculous movie: Breaking Wind.

If you haven't heard of this movie, don't feel bad about it, I hadn't either and kind of just started watching it by default of not giving a shit. It's one of those spoof movies (see: Scary Movie, Disaster Movie, Not Another Teen Movie, The Starving Games, etc.), and it's main "focus" (if you can call whatever it is focus) are the Twilight movies. I'm not going to lie, there were parts that were funny. It was mostly dumb, but at the very least the parts with Rosalie trying to kill Bella, the war of the Johnny Depp characters, and Charlie giving Bella "the talk" were laugh inducing.

The end of the movie was happening as they came in from work and Pook kind of offhandedly asked how long that "Twilight thing" had been happening. I told him the books came out when he and I were still in high school, so IT'S BEEN A MINUTE. He hasn't seen any of the movies, but of course knows about them from social media and because he has a little sister.

My brother chose this moment to let us know that he is apparently an adamant Twilight fan and honestly, none of us are surprised by this.

Pook asked how many books/movies were even in this mess and I told him that there were four books and five movies.... and that's where the argument started, continued, and ended:

Pook: "So, how many movies is this thing anyways?"
Me: "There's four books and five movies."
Brother: "Well, technically there's four movies."
Me: "No.... there's five."
Brother: "No, it's technically four, because the last one is two parts."
Me: "No, it's technically not. There's five movies."
Brother: "But there's only four books so explain that."
Me: "They split the last book into two separate movies to cut down on run time and increase their profit by having two separate films, therefore two separate times to cash in on the franchise."
Brother: "No, because technically the last two movies are one."
Me: "First off, quit saying technically because I'm not 100% sure you know what that means. Secondly, no it is two separate movies."
Brother: "NO. It's one book and so it's one movie."
Me: "That's not how it f*cking works."
Brother: "OH REALLY?! So, how does the Harry Potter books/movies work then? Huh, smartypants?"
Me: "There's seven books and eight movies. Exact same concept. Same as The Hunger Games and all the other movies that they felt they needed to split the last book into two movies to make more money."
Brother: "Oh, so I guess that means that Titanic is two separate movies too then?! By your way of thinking!!"
Me: "No.... Titanic was released all at once as one movie."
Brother: "But, it was on two different tapes, so I guess that makes it two separate movies, right?!!?! *insert more sarcasm and a more than condescending tone than you can imagine here*
Me: "No dipshit, that's just because VHS couldn't hold the same amount of information as a disc. It's called progress with technology. It was still released as one movie at the same time. Go buy the movie now and it's on ONE DISC as it's ONE movie."
Brother: "So, I guess all these movies are two movies then too, right?" Because there's two discs!"
Me: "No dipshit, that's the movie and the special features disc. That's not even kind of the same thing."
Brother: "Dev, tell her I'm right."
Pook: "Absolutely not."
Brother: "...... well, I guess we're both kind of right in a way."
Me: "No, we're not. I'm right and you're wrong."
Brother: "Well.... to a certain degree."
Me: "Well.... no, we're not. You just spent fifteen minutes arguing a ridiculous point that's been wrong the entire time and now you realize that you're wrong and don't want to admit it."
Brother: *walks away and doesn't talk to either of us for an hour*

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my only f*cking sibling. Thank God.

Dani got me a plaque for Mommas urn and I may or may not have cried a little bit. Thank you, Dani, it means a lot. ❤️