Belleair Beach -- Thursday

Day 5

Things I Worry About

Wasting time

Being too busy

Being busy doing things that aren't important

Not being able to enjoy wasting time

So here I am at the beach, doing to myself what I always do on vacation.  I think I should be doing more.


I'm at the beach but I didn't swim today.  I made excuses about the water being rougher and it's cooler than it has been, and anyway for gods' sake I've gone for a swim every day I've been here.  And only a couple of people have been in the water; most just sit out in the sun.

I've been spending too much time in my room.  Even though I've gotten too much sun.  And I have a wonderful view, so do I really need to sit outside to enjoy it?

I've been having these weird panic attack feelings, no doubt exacerbated by the fact that I am drinking twice the amount of coffee than I have accustomed myself to.  I know enough that I can feel my little heart going pitty-pat.  I've learned that that means I need some exercise, so yesterday I went for a walk.  Today I wanted to read.  The panicky feeling was somewhat claustrophobic – imagine, feeling claustrophobic sitting out on the beach.

I worry about my people.  I have five people:  Stephan, Antoinette, Nikko, Jennie and Patricia.

Me and my peeps

I worry that they don't care about me.  I worry that Antoinette doesn't miss me, and she likes her new family more than me.  I worry that Nikko will never even notice I'm not in his life; then I worry he'll be unhappy and I won't know about it to help him.  I worry that I won't have Stephan around forever – I may not have him around much more once Nikko stops coming home.  He's older than me, but he's much healthier than I am, so I tell myself it's a crap shoot who's going to go first, so maybe I don't have to worry about losing him.

I worry about my sisters, who I have just recently found again, whose health isn't so great, and who are so far away.  Then I worry that we've been reconciled for a couple of years now, and I will probably do or say something to piss them off again soon.

I was listening to some silly but beautifully harmonized song by The Hopeful Gospel Quartet this morning, that was about going to heaven and being with your loved ones, and I said to myself, "Geez, then I'll have to be with the Peschaks."  They don't like me much either.  And I couldn't even begin to imagine my sisters getting along with the other people I'd have to be near to be near the ones I love.

Why don't religious fanatics ever think about things like that when they are telling us what we will find in heaven?

Speaking of which, one thing I think I am worrying about less is dying.  Only because I've always worried about it so much till now.  I decided that the last thing I want to do is spend whatever amount of time I have left worrying about dying – what a waste of time… and I've already talked about how I worry about wasting time.

Then there's money, always present in its absence.  I think I understand why some people never retire.  Once you retire you're just counting down the dollars, aren't you, to see what runs out first, you or your money.  And I have to say, looking at this problem from solidly in my 60's, I think running out of money is right up there with dying, as far as what's the worst thing that could happen.  Beaten out only by having to live in bad health.

And that leads to worrying about the kids dreading having to be responsible for me.  I don't even want them to dread having to call me.  I'd just as soon they didn't bother if they were going to dread it.  Euthanasia is definitely the way to go when it gets to the point of the kids fighting over whose turn it is to take mom, and not in a good way.

But the prize for why I have been a basket case this week goes to the Charleston County Public Library Director, head psychopath, Jim, ambitious control freak extraordinaire, and my immediate sychophant supervisor.  I think today the reason for the great difference in my mood this week, versus last year's spring vacation, is that last year when I returned lazy crazy Paul would be retired, and I really believed things would be better.  This year, we are so immersed in destroying the library that it has possessed me.

There is a very creepy scene in Terry Pratchett's amazing Small Gods in which the ship's captain begins to describe the special nature of the porpoise and then catches himself sounding like an infidel.  At which all-powerful Exquisitor Vorbis orders the captain to kill the porpoise, for lunch.

Creepy.  That's what my last job has become.  But it pays the mortgage.  Just.