More Fun with Mental Hygiene

What happens when you lose your home?

You become a renter. I rented a very nice little place. I have lived in the Place for less than a month.

Heracles ( the Mental Man over the past two years ) has thrived, grown, succeeded and generally won each and every one of life's battles.

He is financially comfortable, level-headed, attractive, responsible, and living in YET ANOTHER STATE! He did not move back to this godforsaken place. He moved to a different place, which happens to be my old stomping ground back in my younger, wilder days.

I helped him find a house to buy. It's a nice house. He took up residence and commenced modifying the home to suit his bacheloriffic requirements. I wished him the best. He suggested that it wouldn't hurt me to look for employment there.

Now why in Jesus' beautiful everlasting world would MHU consider looking for employment for no reason at all unless she wants to be a dumb bitch and follow some noncommittal man around the country? No other reason!

Apparently I really wanted to be a dumb bitch. I thought, "couldn't hurt."

It didn't really hurt because I sent my resume out all over and never received a hit until two weeks ago, ONE DAY after I moved into my new apartment which is actually a "gemini" which means it's a duplex with central air, a garage and a dishwasher and a FULL SIZED washer/dryer set and a NICELY sized back yard in a neighborhood with ZERO graffiti.

I have been so happy here, sleeping on my air mattress because my BROTHER hasn't been able to get up here to lend his muscles to help me get all of that SHIT out of the house which is pretty much no longer mine and will never be mine again.

That day, I was invited to participate in a telephonic interview. No sweat. Three days from now? Great. I answered the distinguished panel's asinine questions like, "What does 'professionalism' mean to you?" and chuckled at my plainly bullshit answers. Next day, I was offered a job. I was to start in 10 days if I accepted.

I wasn't sure what to do. I had forgotten, now, WHY did I apply for jobs up North? Oh yeah, because I was being a dumb bitch!

I placed a call to Heracles. I asked him if he REALLY wants to be involved with a REALLY DUMB BITCH who would lower herself to follow some fucking noncommittal juvenile all over the place and jump for joy when she receives a job offer making a good 30% less than she does right now. I asked him if he was ever going to be a man and do something about this ambiguous relationship or if I should just forget about him and MOVE ON. I was pretty much ready to move on.

Somehow Heracles decided that I finally meant business. After all, I AM nearing 40. I can't be wasting my time on men who think they are too good for me. This is some serious shit. If I want to participate in my WOMANLY RIGHT to exercise the highest level of VANITY by getting myself pregnant, I have to get in GEAR right NOW! Even if I don't, I am tired of this crap. I don't want to be an old milked cow, only to be replaced by a svelte young heifer.

He ponied up as much as a Heracles can. I'm out this mess down here in the barrio. I am ready to be with my healthy Heracles who can't love anyone besides himself and his own Great Brain and his neurotic habits.

I love Heracles but I know that men are fickle and I only have a few marketable years left, if I'm lucky. If I'm lucky.

Ha ha that makes me laugh. I'll be so lucky if I find some other pos man who will use me and move on once he gets sick of me, which will be pretty quickly based on my recent rapid weight gain.

Women are nothing but servants.

I put in my resignation at my place of work for over 5 years, and I jumped off Ambiguity Falls. Time to start anew even though I would be okay with Time to chill.

But I want Heracles! He's pathetic and competent, nerdy and sexy, clumsy and direct.

I am moving in two days.


Goodbye, Chez Edward et Jane. Sorry I didn't mow the lawn as much as I should have. Sorry I killed your prize winning iris.

Heracles has roses at his house. >:-)