I got super anxious and dodged a soft (uncommitted) meetup with my dad this morning. Even overate a tasty thing to feel sick, because it's *so* much easier to say "no" when I do that. I didn't even mention the nausea, it just helped me hold my ground.
But then I had a remarkably productive day, riding the nervous energy and guilt. Even drove to a friend of my dad and fixed his computer, then his audiovideo system heh. Nothing serious. Felt good. Felt really, really good to feel useful.
And that's where this sad gets weird. Dad's friend's home is *beautiful*, like, something out of TV. He's retired and gardens a lot, so his front yard is decorated and manicured (and atop a beautiful terrace, making it even more imposing). But his BACK yard is also amazing. There are so many details which I can't even recall, the "decorations", because they were just accents in some sort of landscape piece. So much subtler than the local Art Museum's yard, heh.
And his home was, of course, spotless and... naturally lit, and also huge in a relatively small space. But huge without feeling empty. But filled without feeling crowded, or impeding movement.
And his computer desk was varnished, and a strangely comfortable warped-kidney-shape. And there was a little coaster bearing the sign of my high school (well, my third high school) for when I put down my cup of Perrier with lime as we sat there in some ergo-fucking-nomic chairs waiting for Windows 7 to recover the restore point, and talked about horses.
Dad lives across the street, with his girlfriend. They mow the lawn, enough. We kept/they keep the front presentable, enough, and resent the neighborhood association for it. The house is cozily cramped, the occasional pile of papers or old cables/hard drives become landmarks rather than obstacles. We finally recycled the remaining junker-mopeds from the driveway, once a fierce hobby but then just trellises. The drive is covered in cracks, through which ambitious greenery sprout.
Last year we noticed we had some cinderblocks of differing heights, and upgraded the steps for the main porch. Previously the step was a bag of concrete we'd accidentally left in the rain, and dragged over.
We didn't *have* to live that way, he/we chose to. Dad had budget and we had plenty of time. He just liked it that way. He grew up... with enough, but less than what he has now. I think he didn't want to spoil us, or put on airs, and I'm more than okay with that. I treasure it.
But I hadn't seen such a perfect home in a while, and it kinda hurts.
He's so nice, though. No judgement whatsoever, eager to chat about life and applaud my choices. He offered to pay me with a few beers out, and I think I might take him up on it next week.
shoulda asked for cash
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Topic: Things that made you sad today thread. (Read 9783034 times)