A tired, worn out, and used object. I am leaving in a few days for Alaska again. I'm looking forward to it. Because I love home. I am NOT looking forward to it because of the situation I will find when I arrive. No reliable internet might mean I'm off line for several weeks at a time (I depend on the social world of the internet), the collections of things I may need to purge from an unwilling collector, and the lack of being able to leave unless I go by bike all combine to make me uncertain of home. At 50, I'll be at the beck and call of someone else with few ways to escape.
The worst part, however, isn't going home. It is leaving here. I'm really not needed much in this house. Yes, I cook and bake and do a spot of cleaning here and there, but that is about it. I know I am loved and appreciated. Bear thanks me all the time for making meals for him. The Craftsman always calls home before he leaves town, he gives me attention (as much as the cats sometimes), gets me flowers at least 3 times a year, thanks me for dinners, and tells me goodbye every morning before he leaves. He is a sweet man and gives me everything I need.
And there in lies the problem. Me. I feel I am not good enough for him. I am not as kind as he is. I want hugs and kisses and sex and to go out for dinner with just him or do something with just him. But, I don't need those things. I just want them. And what I want is silly and are just feelings.
I think I can do a million things and then I fall flat on my nose. Which is already snub to begin with, I don't' need to smash it more!