Diary of an Educated Idiot Part II
June 16, 2***
It’s a miracle. T***** came home from work tonight with a repaired water pump. This weekend we’ll get in the pump house and put it back in. We’ll finally have running water again!
Now to get L** out of the nursing home, get his car back from police impound and hope they convict the thieves, help dig the new sewer ditch, replace the roof, and hope the porch holds on a little longer. Yikes. Okay. One thing at a time. I am grateful for the water, even if I suspect it won’t last long. I’m going to have to try to save enough money to get hooked up to the city’s water. I must remember to be grateful and not take things for granted.
June 20, 2***
Oh, God help me. I hate it when T***** is drunk. How can he not see that he becomes a completely different person when he drinks? Meanwhile M******* is still asleep and I have to deal with this stuff alone. T*****’s so mean when he drinks…it just makes me want to cry, and then I feel so small and young—and I’m a grown woman! Ugh. I hate that.
At least we got the pump in. We got the pump in. I am clean. My hair is clean. The water is running…the pressure sucks, but who cares!?
Away, into my own mind…
June 22, 2***
M******* is a “connoisseur” of heavy metal/death metal music; if it’s shocking, filthy, loud, inhumanly fast-paced, or sung by someone who truly sounds like a demon, M****** is interested in hearing it, but he does have standards for “hardcore” (read: totally awesome or good) heavy metal.
Perhaps I’ve been brainwashed. Maybe the superhuman pounding of ridiculously loud drums that can, as far as I can tell, only be compared to standing next to a Gatlin gun, has knocked something loose in my head. Originally, I scoffed at the idea of “good death metal.” I have been surprised to find, after a few years of living with M******, that it’s true: good death metal actually exists.
Anyway, M****** and I enjoy listening to this album by a band named Dethklok: some weird metal band from a cartoon show called Metalocalypse, but you can actually understand what the guy is singing, the music is pretty cool, and some of it’s hilarious (both intentionally and unintentionally, I think). We were listening to this album recently: I was totally zoned out, in that place where the music eclipses any other sensory input, and because you’ve heard them a million times the lyrics—imbedded in your subconscious—tumble into your awareness like gravels in that mysterious jigsaw-puzzle-fitting-together-way. Suddenly as a popcorn kernel erupts, I fell over laughing. Sung to valiant and dramatic music, the lyric had been, “Lost, but still we ride…” I looked over and told M****** that that was such a guy thing to say; a chick would sing, “Lost, and we’re pulling over for directions.” Fortunately, he laughed too.
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