A little more figurative murder this time...but I killing people is also not out of the question.
I'm killing to-do lists, meetings, shopping trips, stressful phone calls with my mother, and yes, even people. This metaphor might be stretched a little bit to emphasize the comedic element that I am also a crazed serial killer who enjoys the art of killing people. As well as to-do lists.
Look. I love murdering people. Some might call it a fetish, some might call it an addiction, but ultimately, it's what gets me out of bed in the morning. That said: it doesn't pay me a cent - except for the few times I rob my victims posthumously (or as a pretext to kill them), I'm slowly learning that the things that bring me joy can't always take the number one place on my priority list.
Sometimes, meetings go until late and I have to stay even later to finish up reports so that I can have time later to murder to my heart's content. Sometimes, a few days go by and nobody dies at my hands.
I haven't killed since Wednesday afternoon when the waiter was rude to Heather and me at lunch; so I stabbed him in the thigh with nail scissors and threw him in the dumpster (actually, I lead him - because I can not lift that much).When you've been doing this as long as I have, your aim with major arteries is pretty damn good. Practice makes perfect.
So it was a nice, solid kill, but it was almost a week ago. And that would be fine except I could really use a kill right now. I'm stuck in some sort of catch-22. I need to work so I have time to kill, but I don't have time to kill because I'm working, but the stress of work is making me want to kill, so I'm distracted and taking longer to work so I don't have time to kill.
And then there's the phone calls with my mother which make me wish I'd taken up smoking - if it wasn't a worse killer than I am. Actually, I've never crunched the numbers? Do I kill more people annually than cigarettes?
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I've looked it up and I am no where near on smoking's level. Man, why have they not banned tobacco products in this country, it's a real problem.
As I was saying, my mother is insistent that we go to her house for Christmas because it will be my father's last time before we put him into a home. My sister told her what we were planning which is not a conversation I wanted to have over the phone but I imagine the world isn't entirely fair to villainous protagonists. So mother knows and she's more upset that we kept it from her than she is that we're planning to separate them. So there's a plus. I understand why she wants the three of us (plus my sister) to spend the holidays at the house but here's the thing:
I haven't been to that house in over twenty years. I moved out as soon as I had enough money to support my share of the rent and I never looked back. I have a feeling that there are things that shouldn't be revisited in that house. And now me and my sister are about to spend two days and at least one night (depending on the roads) in our childhood bedrooms. I have no idea what to expect.
Pray for me. If that's your thing. If not, pray for me anyways. I may need some sort of divine intervention.
As always, dear readers,
Stay Safe
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