Lord of the Land
At any given moment there are 1,517 things that I should be accomplishing. Let’s visit how that’s going.
Mostly I just do dishes, watch horoscope videos, and take naps. Oh, baths, I take a lot of baths (thanks a lot Lush, now I’m always just a little glum anytime I take one without a bath bomb and my water isn’t blue, I digress). I’m aware that stagnant things tend to stay that way, and for a while now it feels like things aren’t falling into place, they’re just mucking around the drain and keeping me up at night. I’m not writing, I’m not working out, I have voluntarily given up dating, haven’t take care of administrative things, my book editor has been dealing with some things, so it’s taking a bit longer than anticipated to get it out into the world. I also struggle with the idea of selling my house since the ex moved out and I don’t have a job (by shear grace and choice I had the opportunity to do that).
It felt like I was continuing to fall behind and being that I see myself as a writer of humor, it had been difficult to put things out. I’ve asked myself numerous questions, “Should I go ahead and get a nine to five job, should I forget the book, should I stop buying broccoli because I know I won’t eat it,” you know, those kinds of questions.
The unfortunate chains of life began to unravel from my muffin top.
Two weeks ago, I found myself employed as the caretaker of someone in need. It’s not full time, but when I’m doing it, I give it my Full Time. I’m not paying off my student debt anytime soon, but it’s amazing how much money you don’t have to make when you don’t spend it. With the new income, I can breathe for another cycle. This work was the stone I needed to find my footing. It’s not about the money either. When I work somewhere simply for the paycheck, I count down the hours with fervor, I bribe myself in hour increments to just get through the next one, until I can go home and deep condition my hair. But when I work somewhere I care about, time becomes that thing people swear doesn’t exist, it’s just numbers on the clock and I don’t beg them usher me into the future.
That’s all I want anyways. I want to live and be and do things that I find beautiful. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I may have found that. Providing care to someone else is hard, but it’s beautiful. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be with this work.
The next stone to going somewhere came around the same time.
I’ve tried to tell myself I don’t believe in the hullabaloo of guru’s telling me the Universe is waiting to provide what I need in life and I just have to ask. Well, I that’s just a big steaming pile of Bull Excrement, I shout in my head. I made a vision board, then promptly snorted at the corneyniss of it. To this day, I read astrology articles, then follow them up with other articles where Bill Nye basically calls me an idiot because…SCIENCE. I want to feel like the Universe is conspiring to help me, but my brain tells me that’s not possible.
Life keeps trying to prove me wrong.
After I wrote a blog post about giving up dating and that I was done with dealing with men for a year, every single YouTube astrologer decided to make videos telling me, “Nah, you’re not going to do that, you’re still in this, and it’s going to be a doozy of a time with them there boys, one in particular boy at that.” I shook my head and denied they were right.
Then, I went on a date with said boy, and that was that. Henceforth from now, he will be called Man.
Fast-forward a couple weeks and it turns out I won’t be selling my house. Now calm your milk makers, no I’m not moving in with Man, no I’m not going to Vegas to get married, and no I’m not declaring my singledom over forever and after. I’m only saying, I’m in. In what, I’m not sure yet.
I look at it this way. I told my heart and the Universe I wasn’t ready to sell my house, and somehow it listened over my shoutings of wanting to be alone and then slammed down a hand from the deck saying I didn’t have to sell the house now.
Out of the black, Man got in touch with me one quiet afternoon. I was watching the movie “How to be Single,” and I saw a message pop up on my phone. It was from Man, he was someone I vaguely knew through social media (NOT TINDER – that’s where the darkness lives). We talked, and talked some more. My bitterness towards dating started to calcify and fall away. I told myself repeatedly that I should keep my bolt locked on getting to know a new person. I mean, come on, I’d made a public proclamation of being a spinster for the next year.
Then, one day after spending time with Man, I felt myself think, “Oh there you are.”
I would liken the idea of finally caring for someone to a favorite childhood stuffed animal. When you’re a kid, you carry this beloved thing everywhere, you play with it, you care for it, you sometimes drag it through the mud, and eventually you lose the stuffed animal. You grieve and mourn the loss, until you can’t cry anymore. Mom tries to bribe you with other stuffed animals but you throw a shit fit anyways. At some point, you get to a place where you think about your favorite teddy often, but you’re not sad anymore. Then, you don’t think about it at all and forget you ever had the stuffed animal. This void goes on until you find teddy again, under a box in the basement. Then you yelp happily, “Oh there you are, I’d forgotten I missed you.”
So, the Universe said, “Let me do this for you Laura, let me throw you a person, and a way to keep your house.” Who am I to flip off the Universe by turning it’s gift away?
I guess technically, I’m a landlord now and I’m sorry, but I can’t help but feel stoked about the whole thing. I should be scared and apprehensive, but I’m not. Obviously I need to tweak the overall details of this life, but for now, the only thing I think I need to work on exponentially is refraining from buying a walking stick and randomly shouting from the yard, “I am the Lord of this land,” as I wave my hand around.