I Was Back in the House This Weekend

Got to babysit the dog (and Mini) in the ol' house this past weekend while MS was out of town. So strange. Scribbled this down:

No less than three vases of flowers from Dude to MS litter the living and dining room areas. A list in his handwriting hangs on the fridge of things that need to be done to fix up the house. Bicycling and fitness magazines have replaced Scientific American and Game Informer in the basket on top of the toilet tank.

But I'm here for Mini. I'm here for the dog. MS is out of town, Dog doesn't like my place (she begins howling in a trip to take out the garbage), and we don't trust Mini in an empty house (there was a boob hickey incident trigger for that). So I'm here, in this home that was once mine, in a home that now feels like I'm visiting my parents. At least that's how I make it make sense to my brain.

Almost everything is familiar, but so, so distant. Empty areas abound. Dude's stuff punctuates certain places, like the toothbrush holder. The library is still empty of my desk and presence, but there is his bike. I open the fridge to a mysterious stock.

I wander in a foreign land, a place once my own home, never again.

Homecoming Was Weird

I was planning on a weekend at a music fest, but Mini's Homecoming Dance was in full effect.

To clarify: I didn't think she should have gone. Mini hadn't completed one of her online class assignments. This wasn't an arbitrary thing or a missing of an assignment or two; she was two weeks behind in online lessons. I told MS Mini shouldn't go (she's been warned). And MS said she could go anyway.

So conflict enough, I told her I'd come over to see her before heading to the music festival. And when I got there, to the house we lived in together, Dude was there. No warning; I guess I should've expected it. And when I got there, Mini was getting her hair set. And there was Dude. And MS said she was going to do Mini's hair in the bathroom.

There I was: my daughter getting her hair done in the bathroom, Dude hanging out, and Mini at least 45 minutes from getting in her dress. Staying would mean making smalltalk with Dude for about 45 minutes. And as Mini was walking to the bathroom, I was bordering on a panic attack. So I hugged her, told her I loved her, and left for the show. I didn't give a shit about the show in position to seeing her in her dress, but it meant small-talking with her boyfirned.

Right or wrong, I left.

I could not deal. I was edging into a panic attack and retreated. Just before the hair fixing, MS asked if I wanted a glass of wine as Dude was uncorking and I just said "Well, I guess if I'm not going to see my girl in her dress tonight, I'm headed out," and I hugged Mini and told her I loved her and went on my way.

It wasn't a huge deal to her (she said), but it was to me. I wanted to see her in all regalia. But Dude freaked me out. And maybe he shouldn't have. But he did. And I left.

It's all good; Mini understands why I left (she's not a fan of his constant presence). But I still feel terrible about it. And I can't make that up to her.

Some days are bad. Homecoming was one of those days.