So if you’ve ever played Zork, there’s this trophy case in the main house. Most of your adventure in the “Great Underground Empire” occurs, well, beneath this house. There are treasures galore, but also goblins and thieves and other perils and loot-stealers. So all the spoils of all your adventures only count for points once you escape and haul them “upstairs” and place them in the Trophy Case in the living room (of what looks like, for all intents and purposes, a nondescript, standard white farmhouse).
To me, gratitude is the act of taking time to put your psychic winnings into a mental trophy case.
So, like, today. An incredible day so far, by all counts and measures. Incredible in its ordinariness. (Or, as the kid said last night, “Remember Suicide Squad? How Harley Quinn’s big huge dream life was just to be a normal family? That’s all I want.”)
So check this out.
Today I woke up at 0300, sea salt still in my hair from effing sailing lessons yesterday! At USF Saint Pete — that beautiful scintillating bay!
My neighbor is away visiting relatives, so when the same disturbance as woke me woke up the kid, I invited him over to study and to learn to cook. For a few hours, we learned how to steam Kale in a rice cooker while making wild rice, and the various things that can go into quiches — that dumpster recipe of Leftover Night. He practiced sniffing seasonings to learn the art of what to put in a recipe on the fly. Then we set those things into the portable toaster oven and sat down to do respective homework.
By my 0800 meeting with my group for our Financial Statements Analysis Case Study, I had typed up my personal analysis to the group essay question: the first time I’ve contributed original material in a week. Since I took time before our chat to think the problem through, I had pertinent points and a strong direction I wanted the project to go. In three hours, we were done: not only with that essay question, but with the one before it, and with all the spreadsheets of calculations! With all four of us shocked and delighted, there was nothing left to do but all award each other 100% participation on the peer evaluations, and submit all our work 37 hours early.
That done, the clock said I was an hour ahead of my own schedule for the weekend, as I’d anticipated the group meeting going until noon.
So eagerly I set about delineating the historical lineage of finances for both houses!
I tell you, I’m a riot today. But, like Harley Quinn, I feel like I’m finally living the dream.
* * * * *
And part of the Trophy Case exercise is shame combating. I mean, it’s February. Mango bills started last September! The tsunami of shame knocks politely at my door, ready to knock me down if I answer.
Instead, in my head, I roll my timeline back week by week.
Why did I not get to exploring these finances before? Oh, because three days ago there was a funeral. The week before that, the death of my former tenant/friend’s daughter, announced to me the same day as my mom came to town (and all the psychic destruction that that visit caused). The week before that, the first Case Study of the Business School’s Hardest Class, meeting the group on who I (and my GPA) was to be dependent. Oh, and driving Angry Joe to all his job fairs and employment meetings. And before that…!
In short, in two months, we’ve completed an earth-moving project with 10 tons of gravel, gotten Angry Joe to and from all his community service hours, all his probation hearings, and gotten him employed, and done all the agency chasing, paperwork, inspections, etc. having to do with all of this. We’ve also gotten three new tenants, two of whom also took epic paperwork to settle in, and one of whom has since just come out of the hospital. There was a house room stripped and repainted, a dorm room to tear down, move out of, and clean up, all of the ruffled feathers and all of the panic from all of the upset to calm in all of the people, and community integration between every damned body to engineer. In these two months also, among the tenants there have been talks of divorce, fear of surgery, firings, re-hirings, disability compensation to chase. There have been blowouts and cleanups and stocking up — of beds, clothes, blankets, textbooks, school supplies, and food. Car insurance has lapsed, health insurance has auto-debited me broke some months. I recovered from my egg surgery, recovered from the home burglary, recovered from trauma triggers.
And throughout, I’ve maintained my school enrollment, maintained 100% in one class and was just awarded a 99% in the other, kept everyone fed and (relatively) comforted, and gotten everybody where they needed to be.
Also, I’ve made a workout plan, and financial goals, and gotten 12 little eggs of mine on ice (with help). In all, ten people (and my cat) are better off for all this running around I’ve been doing for sixty days….
And the months before that were so much worse!
At least this term I have a MBA team who cares. It doesn’t have to be explained to them that they are to show up sober to class!
Oh, and.
While we’re polishing up my mental trophies, let’s not forget that I spoke at the world’s premier academic conference on language arts. On, you know, my first research love: therapeutic comic books!
In light of all that, reconnecting with my mom sounds almost anticlimactic.
Short story long, I am so INCREDIBLY EXCITED to finally have an entire, chaos-free day to sit and analyze MY OWN finances, I cannot even begin to tell you.
Couple that with my joy of being on the water all day yesterday, learning points of sail and listening to EDM on USFSP’s Sea Cow radio (yes, that’s their actual station), and I couldn’t be more excited to be doing regular things.
* * * * *
And, I know. You know. We all know that soon enough, The Chaos will come again. Some new misadventure will happen. Already, today, The Young Marine’s Mom has asked to move our 3pm meeting back until 4. Her son has been telling the veteran rep at USF Sarasota that he’s a buddyfucker and a dishonorable veteran for not housing his clients with me — I’m sure that whole situation will be blowing up soon.
But I asked my mom for $2,500 today to cover both New College and the Veteran Housing Services deciding they’re going to delay their checks to me; $6,500 is suddenly two weeks late.
But my mom just drops a loan check in the mail like it’s nothing, “Sure Dear! I trust you!” like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear.
Salt in my hair, salt in my eyes: for just this jewel-bright moment, everything I am doing is boring and analytic and shame-free, each action shoring up my stability. It’s a nondescript Saturday sometime in late Februrary, and today my life is normal and boring as everyone else’s. And it feels fucking fantastic.
My trophy case is full and the scoreboard in my soul shows maximum points!
*grin*
* * * * *
Nice to pause to note, before back into the Underground Empire we go….