Bloggin’ On: Thoughts Upon a Late September Sunday in 2020, or: The Love Gone Wrong Blues

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Bloggin’ On: Thoughts Upon a Late September Sunday in 2020

 

Image by AbsolutVision

Hi there, Dear Reader. I’m sorry that I have not been as active here as I used to be; writing material for A Certain Point of View, Too is consuming much of my writing time, and it is not often enough that I can create content for two blogs in one day. If a Trump supporter had not gotten bent out of shape over some of my more vocal political posts that I shared on Facebook back in March, I wouldn’t have needed to create a “sister blog” on WordPress and we’d be well past the 1,355-posts mark by now.

Indeed, just getting to the 1,355-posts mark has been a struggle for me: I don’t really want to repeat myself on two blogs by creating semi-duplicate content on a daily basis, and sometimes I am just so tired of sitting at my desk and staring at a computer screen all day that I. Simply. Can’t. Write. For. Two. Blogs. On. The. Same. Day.

My old neighborhood in South Florida. It's probably hot and humid there, too. Photo by the author


Anyway, here in my corner of Florida it is a hot and extremely humid day. Per my computer’s Weather App, the temperature outside the house is 89˚F (32˚C) under mostly sunny skies. With humidity at 66% and a 5 MPH/8 KPH breeze blowing from the east-southeast, the feels-like temperature is 102˚F (39˚C). The forecast for the afternoon calls for more clouds and some thunderstorms are expected to roll through the area in the evening.

Image by Jms3082 from Pixabay 


I wish I were financially independent and could afford to buy my own place, preferably in a neighborhood without a Homeowners’ Association (HOA) and its related monthly fees. My once-happy relationship with L has soured, and even though we are still “friends” and she wants to keep taking care of me, I really want my own house and not have to deal with L’s constant drinking and all of the issues that stem from it. I miss having my own place, but unless I can write a book that will sell well, that’s not going to happen. At least, not soon enough to improve my mood or domestic situation.

Image by Paul Brennan from Pixabay 


I did look up some properties that would fall into the $50,000-$70,000 range, and I even found a couple, but they are either mobile homes (trailers) or are located in an HOA gated community. If I had enough disposable income I would not mind HOA fees, but I don’t. So….it looks like I am stuck here, at least for the foreseeable future.

Ever since L reconnected online with a guy from her past named A, things between us deteriorated badly. I mean, the relationship has not been on a sound foundation for a while; we clicked at first five years ago when she used to go to Miami to help me in my failed attempt to fix up the townhouse my mother left me after she died on July 19, 2015.  We used to have a lot of fun together, and I fell in love with her despite her affinity for alcohol and loud 1970s music.

I won’t get into the whole story about why L decided to turn to A for love and affection; it’s too long and complicated, and there’s plenty of blame that can be fixed on both of us, not just L. Suffice it to say, though, that what started out so well did not end well, especially once this guy from L’s past entered the picture.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay 


I spend most of my offline time at night alone now. L. goes into the master bedroom and closes the door so she can video-chat with A uninterrupted and in private. I am left to fend for myself out in the common room to watch TV or go to the living room to read. As a result, I’m lonely and depressed, which means that I’m irritable and prone to anger. And that, Dear Reader, is not a good thing.

Of course, the COVID-19 pandemic is also a factor. I have mentioned here and elsewhere that L works from home now, and since the house’s size and layout play havoc with the WiFi router signal, I have to go offline during L’s 8 AM-5 PM office hours. I have learned to cope, but it still means that I am not able  to feel connected, even virtually, to the outside world for much of the day. 

If things had gone right with L and the domestic situation here was good, I wouldn’t be half as bothered by this. But things went wrong – badly – and I don’t think they are going to improve unless I can leave.

But unfortunately, I can’t leave.

Today I plan to fill out the absentee ballot I received yesterday in the mail. There’s no way on God’s green earth that I am going to vote for Donald Trump or any of the major national-level Republicans on the ballot. I do need to borrow a pen with BLACK ink, as the machines that read the “fill-in-the-bubble” ballots do not allow for the use of blue or purple ink.

After that, I have no clue about how I will spend this last Saturday of September 2020. I could probably watch a movie out in the common room – aka the Florida room – or go to my reading spot on the living room couch and read from Peter Caddick-Adams’ Sand and Steel: The D-Day Invasion and the Liberation of France. Or I might stay here at my desk and lurk around on Facebook for a while. Anything to chase the Love Gone Wrong Blues away.

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