August 28: Wednesday Almost Evening, Bad Guy in My House, Feeling So Much

I didn't want to miss sending out some love to all my disciples.

I have had another crazy day of work and whatnot.  That is why this post is not going to be long or very deep.  I'm sort of exhausted.  I will return to Hitchhiker's soon.  We only have a few more pages left.  And I promise something more substantive tomorrow or the next day.  The first week of the semester is always an adjustment for me.

It is Wednesday almost evening.  In about an hour, I will be teaching my second class of the day--a film class.  That is my schedule this semester.  Two film classes, one that meets Monday and Wednesday afternoon, and one that meets Wednesday evening.  Pretty sweet assignments.

I find myself today cast in the role of the bad guy in my house.  I won't go into details, but it has to do with expensive tickets to a show/concert/YouTube thing my son wants to go to near Detroit in two weeks.  My wife, in her mania, spent a great deal of money on the tickets and promised to take my son to it.  Now that we are in a very difficult money situation because of my wife's mania, I can't see the expense of driving downstate to attend.  My son, last night, was so mad he couldn't talk to me, and my wife just kept on insisting that they were going.

I'm not a horrible, strict father.  I'm not a cheapskate, either.  However, I find myself  at this time in my life holding the fragile fabric of my family together with thread and scotch tape, and now I have two enemies in my home.  A component of mania is stubbornness mixed with a brand of irrationality.  There is simply no discussion on this topic with my wife in a calm manner.  She is going period.  My son says the same thing.

I must say that adulting is not what it's cracked up to be.  I much preferred the time when bills were something that parents dealt with and the most important thing in my life was trying to go out and drink or smoke pot with my friends.  Life was so much easier back then.

I love my wife and son.  At the moment, I know that the feeling isn't mutual.  My wife, because of her addiction and mental illness.  My son, because he's ten and doesn't understand money and relationships.

Saint Marty isn't sad today.  He's just tired of . . . feeling so much.

P. S.  Anybody interested in good tickets to the Demonetized Tour with Mini Ladd on September 7 in Detroit, let me know.  I'd like to get some of the money back possibly.