I expect when I finally stroke out it will not be work or my personal life that tips me, but probably listening to NPR. This morning’s report on the new rich in America was not only fluffy and uninformative (rich kids don’t know how to manage money? Americans aren’t passing on the values of thrift and charity? No fucking shit) but did not contain even a passing mention of how the increase in obscenely wealthy families is part of the growing divide between the rich and the poor and evidence of the dwindling middle class. Hello, people, shouldn’t we be more worried about average American families falling below the poverty line and the already poor finding themselves in increasingly desperate situations? Reporting that spoiled rich kids don’t know how to manage money makes me want to smash my radio.

When my girl, K, reads this she will surely say, “Oh it’s one of

days for you, is it?” And yes it fucking is. Cranky? Uh-huh. And I know exactly why and that just makes me more cranky. It’s like a never ending spiral of grump. It’s my ex-husband’s birthday today, you see. For whatever reason you think that might upset me, you’re probably wrong. I harbor no animosity toward him, indeed I rarely give him a passing thought. It’s been several years, after all, since I’ve even seen or spoken to him. And yet, I wake up in the morning and my first thoughts go something like this:

. Yeah, well fuck you too, brain. Because what bothers me is why do I remember shit like this? Why so many dates be stuck in my head? Because invariably, remembering things like birthdays of people I’m no longer in contact with, or anniversaries of people’s deaths, leads me to wonder about those people, worry about them, or it just brings up memories I’d just assume leave far behind me. Honestly in the end, the bottom of the spiral, I just end up feeling like bad person. I spend most my energy moving forward, changing, growing, doing. But friendships and romances and all get left by the wayside as I charge along my path and I can’t even seem to shake the sense of lingering responsibility for people that I have known and loved. It would be easier if I could simply just not look back. Or rather only look back when I choose and not be broadsided by tiny memories that blow up in to drawn out reflections on how life has changed for myself and others. Yeah, it’s one of

days.

In non rage inducing news, my girl, Hols, will be here in less than two weeks. It’s one of those things that’s so exciting, I can’t even really think about it. Just too giddy!!

I keep forgetting to do things. Or I remember but never at a time when I can actually get the thing done (like when I’m in the car or the shower or something). What I need is an attractive young man with a clipboard to follow me around and tell me what needs to be done, or list off things needed doing that he already took care of.

Author: Ajax Bell

Seattle author. Stops to smell the flowers. Amateur nerd (I wanna go pro but I haven't found anyone to pay me). Humble hippo enthusiast. queer/bi. they/them.