Blah. Blah blah. Blah blah blah. Meh.
That is pretty much all I can say to sum up my week. I feel emotionally and mentally drained. I am craving a quiet and peaceful life in which my home is once again my sanctuary and the summer sun that forces it’s rays through my window can once again tempt me into enjoying the real outside world. Instead, I am living in a pit of material confusion, with all of Weston’s stuff randomly scattered about the house and Robyn achieving very little in the way of moving out. I have taken several days off work under the guise of recharging my batteries, but the truth is I have lost all motivation when it comes to doing anything financially productive. All I want to do is tidy my home, decorate, cook meals and look after my son. Oh, and Weston. Even he has managed to turn me into his personal laundry service. Not that I mind. Being useful and needed by the two men under my roof has ultimately stopped me from sinking into a little bubble of melancholy.
Of course, the outside world is creating a far more energetic life story for me. As is typical of small towns, the gossip grapevine here is ripe. This place is like a strange vortex for rumour mongering and is as if the residents here cannot physically stop themselves from indulging in tattle tales and muck spreading. When sucked in they lose all sense of reality, going so far as to make up complete fabrications should your name not have made it into the top ten of newsworthy antics recently. This spirals down into a shallow and mindnumbingly boring game I refer to as The ‘He Said, She Said’ Game. I dislike this game immensely. A caricature of real conversation, stripped of any intellectual thought or common sense, its goal is nothing more than to confuse, goad and agitate. The inside of my skull aches with the frustration of it all.
Weston came home the other night to inform me that Billy had heard a whole new take on the Robyn and Perry debacle. In a version of ‘He Said, She Said’, Billy was told it was I who apparently had been having an affair with Perry. I’ve heard this one before. Although I must admit to having a past with Perry, it pains me. The thought of letting that weaselly little prick anywhere near me makes my skin crawl. Weston, having spent the other weekend at mine and therefore an unwillingly witness to the whole sorry mess, was able to put Billy straight. Billy concurred that the source of his information was less than reliable. As the men discussed this latest furore, they found themselves shocked and disgusted by their own behaviour,
‘What are we doing? How does any of this matter to us?!’ They had said when caught out by their own gossiping.
I laughed as Weston told me what had occurred, Their reaction was so like my own. Not my circus, not my monkeys, after all. Of course, there was also comfort in their involvement. As crazy as it sounds, when the men of the town start gossiping too, you know shit has escalated to a point of unfathomable, farcical ridiculousness.
Perry, however, is not the only man I am meant to be sleeping with. The grapevine informed my son this week that his dear old mother was a regular bed companion to the lovely Billy himself. My 15 year old son, like I, laughed heartily. I adore Billy, I really do, but I often refer to him as the little brother I never wanted and the concept of sleeping with him is not only amusing, but slightly disturbing. I am reminded of all the stories that have circulated about me in the past; I’ve been pregnant at least three times this past year, I’m on some weird sex rota with three cousins, I’m married, divorced, gay, and I’ve had endless stints in rehab. Oh, what I would do for the peace and quiet of rehab right now!
In more positive news, Amber is coming to stay at the weekend and some quality time with her, Adele, Blue and Magic Mike XXL is exactly what the doctor ordered. Should I have actually have seen a doctor. Despite the blah blah blah, I am still free of medication, free of panic attacks and under no real risk of slumping back into a dangerous depression. I have my true friends, I have my son. I have my home, my career and my future travel plans. I have a new housemate who actually fixes things and pays rent! I have the sunshine beaming through the window, taunting me with its promises of bronzed skin and the strengthening powers of Vitamin D. I have so much more than those I have left behind. I will let the rumours ride out, for as my father used to say, ‘all the while they are talking about you, they are not talking about someone who cannot handle it’.