Five fucking hours

Five fucking hours

I am so fucking glad these Oxygen people came for their equipment. I waited five fucking hours in my dead father’s apartment for them. They called me around 1445 to tell me they are lost. I was so pissed. The other guys knew where the apartment was. So annoying.

I got some stuff that I wanted from my father. Then when I was on my way home, my sister called and wanted me to bring home the eggs in the fridge. Really? You couldn’t tell me that when I was on the phone with you three hours ago?? I am so aggravated. Then on the bus this disabled lady comes on, and immediately spills her coffee at the front of the bus. The whole bus ride smelled like French vanilla. I got off three stops before my usual one to walk off the steam. I was so annoyed.

My mother called to ask if I ate. I haven’t had anything since I got to my father’s apartment at around 1000. I am not hungry because I am so aggravated. Maybe if I calm down, I will have something. I feel like ordering Chinese food but am afraid of spending $30 on food and not being able to eat it. I finally found a good restaurant that delivers, though you have to spend a minimum of $25 and they charge a delivery fee. So worth it though to have decent Chinese food.

I didn’t do anything but listen to music while at my father’s and go through some of his things. I took stuff off his wall that he had pinned up. He won’t be needing his reminders of doctors appointments anymore. I got a shaving kit that he never used. It must have been in his apartment for a while because there was at least an inch of dust on it. I also took the rest of his Ensure and his soap that wasn’t opened. My sister had bought him Dove because he got really dry skin and was scratching himself though he blamed it on bugs biting him. We had I don’t know how many exterminators come to his apartment and they never saw these bugs. After my father got some steroid cream, the bug bites stopped and we didn’t hear anything more of it. Though he kept spraying himself with alcohol to prevent bug biting him. He was a character.

I played the Powerball tonight because it’s $314 million. I played two quick pics. The first one has my father’s month and year of birth. The second has my Godfather’s birthday. Fucking weird. Hope it comes out.

About G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about. also writing about my daily struggle with chronic pain and how it affects my suicidality
This entry was posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, depression, mood disorders and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Five fucking hours

  1. manyofus1980 says:

    I hope your numbers come up and you win in the lottery. That would be nice. If you got chinese food I hope you enjoyed it.

any thoughts?

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