Monday

 So, what did Maslow’s first tier look like today?

Well, campers. Since you asked. 

Alarm was set for 8 I reset it in the predawn twilight for 8:45.

I got up at 8:30 after jousting with unconsciousness for some undetermined period.

Showered. Wiped blood outta the bowl. A lot but it’s lower GI stuff so I’m not super freaked out. 

Back upstairs. 30 push-ups. Used to be 60 but that was like in May. Seven months ago and despite rigorous effort at maintenance, there continues to be at best a plateau with the only numbers showing improvement being average resting heartrate. Made it 35 pushups. HR i

Right hand is numb. It’s mostly numb these days and I’m constantly fidgeting and massaging the warped tendons creasing the back of my hand. 

Sigh. 

Dress pants. I’ve got like one pair really and they might be the same ones I got married in. 

The fabric seems to have shrunk over the years but it’s still passable formal. 

Find a black shirt. Only have a t and it’s v-neck. No sport coat any longer. Been years on one of those.

I wonder at which point I consciously decided that I wouldn’t need a sport jacket as regular apparel? Surely there was a moment when I tossed the last vestment (ha) of professionalism aside. 

Might have been when the Portland Recovery Community Center fired me…I mean ”let me go” - they gave me a months’ severance so I guess I shouldn’t be as bitter as I am but that was a particularly nasty twist of fate. 

Who can say. It likely ended up at Goodwill. Like so many hopes and dreams.

Have to get to the mechanic I’ve been using too - scheduled to drop off my car for estimates around a sticker - barring new tires I’m guessing $400. 

Fresh squeezed lemon  juice and room temp tap water with salt. I’ve been acquiescing to this morning ritual for over a decade now. 

Countless lemon rinds piled to the sky in some otherwise empty room - a testament to my ability to stay on track. Or something. I don’t know anymore. 

Out the door. 

Drop the car grab the loaner.

It’s a loaner for sure. But beats walking. Be grateful. 

St Joseph’s. Is it a cathedral? Idk. It sure seems ornate and no less intimidating than when I took my first Communion and offered my first Confession. Christ that was some time ago. 

I’m here to see an old friend set to rest. 

She was the daycare-provider when I was…maybe 7-11? The specific dates escape me but, she was my surrogate mom (and dad for that matter) through some very sensitive and formative years.

Now I don’t think of her much any more beyond the place she held as a parent in the cobwebs of my early childhood. 

I think of her son quite often as we’ve maintained a healthy friendship for, shit, almost 40 years now. 

Looks like I can take care of some things if I try. 

But he’s here of course. As are his other siblings.

I look for him at the front of the chapel - where I see folks standing and recognize his sister.

When I see my friend I’m shocked - he’s aged. Significantly. And his face is thinner. Jesus he’s not sick again is he? And then I realize I’m staring at his older brother - who doesn’t look sick at all, but certainly is a few years older than my friend. 

I give handshakes and forced smiles - it IS good to see these two, but where is…

Aha.

Off, by himself, sitting quietly in thought or prayer. 

I greet him with a handshake and a hug. 

The ceremony is short - “she picked the one with only two lines! God Bless my sister” - and Catholic. 

My friend shared that when he was an alter-boy years ago, he would peep through a small hole in the wooden facade behind the altar to see how many people had turned out for Sunday mass -Like being backstage? He nodded, 

I always feel like I’m participating in a bizarre public sporting event when I’m in church - half expecting to hear the voice of maybe Bugs Bunny come in with “rah, rah, rah!” after I’ve been instructed to stand up for the final time. 

I didn't accept the Communion. The Jeez-It. The wafer. I feel weird about this cannibalistic take on martyrdom, I guess I don’t think I’ve earned the rite but I also don’t believe in…whatever the hell it is these folks seem to believe in. 

I can’t get out of there quickly enough. 

I feel like I know nobody. And I feel awkward and exposed here. Like a failed Catholic who doesn’t know the rules or a boyscout who can’t tie knots. I feel like I'm about to get in trouble. I was, after all, expelled from this facility back in my third grade year and I suppose it feels like I'm trespassing. 

As I'm looking for someone to accompany streetward, I see a familiar face. Someone I used to go to school with back before I transferred to Westbrook. She gives me a hug, smiles and tells me she remembers playing doctor with me back when we were both at this daycare. Back in the mid 80s. Almost 40 years ago.

Home. 

Need to figure out work. Send a couple of texts. 

Looks like I can count on a couple of days this week so I can’t eat much but that’s okay.

MetRx bars and protein powder and frozen bananas. 

Phone rings. It’s the garage. I need tires. That’ll be $1450.00 or something. I heard 1500 dollars and stammered out “you didn’t DO the work yet, did you?” No they didn’t. 

They didn’t want to charge me 1500 without knowing I was planning on paying it.

Well, fuck NO I don’t want you to do the work but I appreciate you…. Brain flies into catastrophe mode… I want to put my hand through something. What the fuck did I EXPECT it was gonna be? What are tires, $50 a piece? Try $200. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK 

Ok. So what needs doing aside from the banana peels? Rear ball joint - $520 or so and we’ll sticker it with new tires.

Panic.

Just fucking PANIC.

Okay. Breathe.

Keys. Return the loaner and be really nice as these guys are just the bearers of the grim news. 

The guy working the counter is a friend from high school - he asks about my hiking experience and normally I’d be happy to give him tons of chatter but. Right now I’m calculating and I manage to seem polite and kind and genuinely interested (I hope) but. 

Back home. Tires 225 60 R17 H99.

Walmart app. $92 on rollback per tire. Sure. Plus who fucking knows for install and balance - whatever it’s the cheapest way to do this so it goes on the plastic - appointment next Tuesday. 

Looks like fucking Walmart isn’t having issues with supply-chain and or staffing? At least not according to their website. Who fucking knows.  So they charge me @$400 for the tires maybe another 150 at pickup and I’ve effectively saved what five hundred off the initial quote for cheating the fuck out on tires.

Phone rings. 

Do I have plans tonight? You mean aside from the gym? Sure I’d love to hang some fiberglass ceiling tiles. LOVE TO. I’ll bring my own goggles.