Sometimes it's a battle to stave off the darkness, September and October being particularly tough months in this category for reasons still left unsaid. These days the downward spiral seems to be picking up speed on the home front and being treated as an indentured servant has become the norm. What is the use in speaking when the conversation is meant to be one way? Shut up and know thy role houseboy! The Breadwinner talks and i listen and am only supposed to speak when prompted and then only with the acceptable answer or comment. The spiral has led me to go out of my way to avoid conversations or to listen with the look of a dog that's been kicked about.
The days are much tougher when i get into it with the boyos, of course i remember they are boyos and pushing and testing is what they need to do as they grow up and figure out the world. I'm sure the indifference and animosity of their parents toward each other isn't the healthiest and i worry about the adverse effects it will have, i fucking try, it's about all i can say. Their old man is a sensitive sort, the fact is the hard and tough exterior is nothing more than a shell protecting the soft and sensitive interior. It's a facade i've used for years and one could debate whether or not it has served me ill or well. So a tough night with the boyos led to a restless sleep and an early rise and a dark haze hanging over the morning. I did my best to get out of it, to not let on the melancholy that had covered me like a blanket.
This morning saw me up in darkness, hanging with Zuko the cat who likes to rise early and meow his way around the house looking for a friend. While the Breadwinner sat and sucked the sceptor and looked at her phone i was doing my usual. In the midst of making two breakfasts, starting laundry, doing dishes, cleaning up some of last nights clutter, collecting the recycling (plastic bottles), doing more laundry, planning lunches, getting the boyos up and ready to log on for school. The Breadwinner barked out some orders, complained about her job, and then shuffled out the door. It's funny how often i'm told things need done, edicts issued from various thrones, how i'm running hard from the get go while she sits. My gig is looked at as laughable, as if it's not work. I understand it's the second income designed to bring in some extra cash but that in no way makes it inferior or subject to ridicule. Of course i see the writing on the bathroom stall, and yesterday as i was told that i'd soon need new tires by the dealership where i was getting the oil and filters changed, i was told i'm going to have to work a lot to pay for those tires. It was the sort of backhanded comment i've become accustomed to.
And so the morning moved on. I've always listened to music in the morning, hell i'm always listening to music, but since the electric co. almost blew up my house and killed my old stereo (a few years back) it's been silent in the mornings. Lately with the online lady hooked up i can shout out bands and here the songs that soothe the soul. This morning, it being bright and sunny, having filled up the bird feeders, Zuko hanging by the back door thinking about eating grass and watching birds, i said Lady Friend Internet Voice, play Wilco. Then this song came on, Woodie done by Wilco, and the troubles just sort of melted away, at least for a few minutes, and i knelt down next to Zuko and we watched the birds and i smiled a bit and could feel the light creep in through the cracks in the dark, Freddie was right, without music, life would be mistake.