At Least They're Committed

DSII and Kev are sitting on the steps that I vacuumed a couple hours ago. Bored. At least they won’t be bored and covered with dog hair. They want to go over to Kev’s because they can hot tub over there, but his mom’s not home yet so they have to wait here for a grueling 20 minutes more. Bummer.

Today was supposed to be for freelance work. The publisher was going to send me information and articles to be edited so I set this time aside. I didn’t get them. I e-mailed her, but I haven’t heard back.

Instead, today was for exercise, laundry, vacuuming stairways and minivans, fixing window screens, dog play and Scrabble. All good. I did all but the window screens, which is fine because that didn’t look fun at all.

No more Raul in the furnace room. That was just too weird.

D is in the black chair next to the Christmas tree switching channels between USC-UCLA and Alabama-Florida. It’s the fourth quarter. The conclusions are pretty set and Florida will be No. 1 in the polls as of Monday and Rick Neuheisel will lose again, which always makes me smile.

I called and told Lily about Raul, her bull terrier husky; how he ran into the furnace room and stared, whined, cried, circled, barked and whimpered at a spot underneath the stairs . . . on the bottom of the stairs themselves. How he wouldn’t come out; how he’d jump, scratch and cry some more. I’d call him, he’d turn his red eyes toward me, the white on his face creating a clownlike smile against the black of the room. He seemed bewildered, confused, panicked. “Like, I KNOW!!! I won’t, like, go in there,” she said; he’s done this before I guess. “There’s, like, something in there and it, like, scares the shit out of me!!!” Sigh. I do so wish she would stop saying ‘like.’ I wasn’t scared; just mystified.

The house is dark save for the TV, the Christmas lights and the glow from the laptop reflecting off the snowman sitting behind it on the table. He’s smiling at me. Sweet! Ain’t nobody been flirting with me lately ‘cept him. Hmmmm. I do look way cute at the moment.

Wonder when I should call the publisher and ask her about the copy. Monday morning, methinks, if I haven’t heard anything sooner.

Honestly. There’s nothing to be seen in the furnace room. The spot where he barks, where he cries and circles, is one layer of wood. No, one spot on one layer of wood above his head and nothing but cement and sheet rock beneath his feet. It’s not as if anything can even be living in the walls. There’s nothing there. Not of this world anyway.

Maybe Moose is going to take the freelance job. He set it up for me then said after “The Announcement” he might take it himself. Might need to after they put the Rocky “up for sale.” What a farce. In the time they’ve allotted for the sale — six weeks — they can’t even pull together a buyers’ profile. My friends and former colleagues will be scrambling to find any work at all. Hundreds of 40- and 50-somethings with limited skill sets flooding a dying market.

You know that scene in Poltergeist where the dog runs past JoBeth Williams, jumps on the bed, drops his ball and sits up asking to play? That’s what Raul was doing! Isn’t that weird!! Lily says it started soon after Maxie the Cat disappeared. Maybe I should dig in there deeper. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe it would be cool. Maybe it would bring closure. Or maybe it would unleash something unholy and unnatural on this home that shall prey on our souls and devour all that is good and light within these sacred walls. Heh.

D is laid off, as of Friday, Dec. 12, but he works in health care and already has his new position lined up. Still an adjustment: no more two weeks off at Christmas for him; benefits will fall to me; five day weeks with no overtime. But, hey, we’re not complaining. No, no, no. Even before we found out about the impending glut of displaced journalists, we weren’t complaining. Just happy to be working.

I worry about ‘my people.’ I love them. They’re my friends. I’m sad for the Rocky. But know what? I’ve always called that newspaper my one unrequited love. Eleven years I took pride in my work there, my editing, my writing, my professionalism. I never really was taken seriously. I think, like with men, if you’re too eager, too easy they just never really look at you right. Heh. I never fell into that trap when it came to men. There’s always another one of them . . .

The boys are gone: hot tubbing. Phew! That waiting thing had to suck!!! Time for Oklahoma-Missouri; Arizona State-Arizona. Hmmm. Wonder if D will want to go to to a sports bar and so we can watch them both at once. Bwahahahaha!

Dear God, please help my friends!!!!

. . . there’ll never be another Rocky. I adored that place. But I’m over it.