Alexis is crying. America has just inaugurated its 45th president. I’m afraid to even open up the internet today. We are talking ourselves into being able to watch his speech. I’d rather be kicked in the balls by a mule.
It’s raining again though, which is fitting. I took a long walk this morning because it felt like the only thing I could do.
Breakfast was delicious. Sweet potato toast, fried eggs, bacon, and avocado. I feel nourished and full.
I haven’t noticed in dramatic changes in the last few days. I got terribly light-headed during my boxing lesson, but that is pretty common. I can tell I’m losing weight and my overall health seems to be improving but I haven’t gotten into any of the ‘deep tissue’ stuff I’d like to. For example, I have a constant cloudiness in my head that has been with me since I was about 19. That’s when I went to every kind of doctor and got every kind of test. They wanted to rule out everything from a brain tumor to a simple cold. In the end, everything came back regular. All my charts, all my blood work, all the scans. So it was ruled that I had chronic depression and that was the cause of the fogginess.
It’s twelve years later and I still have the fog. If you could imagine living life but also simultaneously being just a few feet outside of your body narrating everything in the third person in real time, that would be the best I could describe it. Even in the most intense moments, when people are supposed to be devastated with emotion, I’m just having a monotone conversation in my head about what I should probably do so people think I am engaged. Your grandpa just died. Be sad. Say something meaningful. As if life is being experienced through a filter. Sex with a condom on. Only the condom is my brain. And how would you go about treating this? It’s impossible. And endless cycle of specialists, false leads, and expensive tests.
I was holding on to this outside change that it was related to grains. Kind of a last ditch effort to resolve something I have learned to accept as a part of me. I have seen no improvement thus far. I’m guessing I would need to stay off grains and sugar for much longer than 30 days. I’ve come this far, I am strongly considering it.
Alexis, however, is starting to show some improvements in areas she has had chronic trouble.
“I took a big poop today!” she said this morning.
That’s three days in a row. Which is a miracle if you knew how much I had to hear about her, I mean, how much she has to deal with constipation and inconsistent poops. These are the big ticket items I was talking about missing a few articles ago. Something to add to the “win” column. This would be a huge one for her.
I feel Woody has grown tired of the same old walking route. He hates the rain, I’ll tell you that much. This morning, he pooped under a bush so he wouldn’t get wet. I try to support him in different ways after he poops so he doesn’t become desensitized to approval. Today, I tried, “That’s how we do, son!” in a deep voice. I don’t think he liked it all that much.
We are doing our training now. He’s working on the “stay” command. Not his strong suit to say the least. But he’s getting the hang of it. I walk him into the living room, make him sit, then lay down, then I walk to the other side of the apartment with my back to him. Then I turn around and hold eye contact while counting to ten. At which point I tell him to “come” and he goes ape shit and sprints right up to me.
It’s Rainmaggedon. Palm branches scattered all over the freeway. Poor ladies with blown out umbrellas crossing the street. And tons of stoked millennials wearing all of their expensive rain gear that they bought for this very day.
This was also the day I paid $645 to have my scooter removed from the tow lot. Because they were charging a $50/day storage fee.
“It costs you $50/day to store something that takes up two feet?”
“Yes sir it does.”
First I went to Target and talked to Rob the manager. That was not pleasant. I congratulated him on his excellent detective work by not being able to correlate the stickers all over the scooter and the business logo seventeen feet away at our studio.
Then it was Eddie at Advantage Towing who said he could not possibly wave the storage fees.
“Once they are processed in the computer, that’s it.”
I’ve always loved this excuse by business owners. Oh, I don’t know. It’s the computers. Once it’s in the computer we can’t control it. You own the business. You bought the fucking computer. I’m pretty sure it can do whatever it is you want.
He told me it was just business, nothing personal.
“You’re in the business of ruining people’s months. So, yeah, it is personal.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“I’m just asking you to admit that you are a liar and that you take advantage of people who don’t have a choice.”
He had some choice words. I told him he was a piece of shit.
Naturally he was there at the shop. A dingy little crap box that was straight out of Breaking Bad.
“Hello. I’m the piece of shit,” he said about two feet from my face definitely trying to scare me.
I stopped. Turned to face him.
“Yes, you very much are a piece of shit. Great place you’ve got here too.”
We fought for a few minutes. Then he softened up for some reason.
And at the end of the day, what am I gonna do but pay? A defeat so hard to swallow I am having all the stereotypical reactions. Googling lawyers. Checking the forums for anyone who has gotten back at the towing companies. And there’s nothing. They ride the fine edges of the law so closely that there’s really nothing I can do. I have a hard time accepting when there’s nothing I can do.
The most upsetting thing – I was really excited to buy myself a new vacuum today. A Shark Rocket, to be specific.
Alexis made me a turbo salad before I had to head to the studio and take a few photos.
It was pretty simple – rotisserie chicken, mixed greens, cauli rice, olive oil, and a lemon squeeze. I inhaled it.
Now I am filing four years of “missing” taxes from my old business. My accountant never checked the “FINAL RETURN” box in 2012. As far as the IRS is concerned, I’ve been doing business as usual, just not giving them their cut.
Today has not been my favorite day.
Little Woody is freezing his little neutered nuts off. I know he needs to go to the bathroom though. I pick him up and start talking to him in a high-pitched Mrs. Doubtfire voice as we walk to the door. I was in the middle of my talk to him, “Come on little baby. Say bye to mommy dearest…” when I opened the door and saw our neighbor, Wayne. I paused for a second, cleared my throat, and uttered the following word, “Football.”
We are at family dinner now. We’ve been having these dinners since Jasper was born, four years ago. The single longest recurring social experience in my life. We are listening to classic rock and I’m playing Star Wars with Jasper.
I’m always the punch line because I never bring anything and I eat five times more than anyone else. They call me Meat Toosh because of it. And Jasper might actually think my name is Uncle Meat Toosh. Since I’ve been with Alexis we’ve started bringing things to family dinner. Tonight was a feast.
Butter lettuce taco shells, ground beef, home made guac, shredded red cabbage with meyer lemons, sauteed radish and onion with a balsamic reduction, mango salsa, and the other half the table that I couldn’t look at – shredded cheese, sour cream, and salsa.
I had nine tacos, conservatively.
I let the family know about Alexis’ digestion progress.
“Alexis has been pooping up a storm lately,” I said.
She shot a look at me.
“Yeah she is chronically constipated and now thanks to the Whole30 she is blowing it out on the reg.”
Everyone is laughing. Alexis looks like a tomato.
It’s a Bruce Hornsby kind of night.
Read Day 21 HERE.