Things keep moving forward, little things getting taken care of (passive voice used advisedly, since, yeah, it's me doing them, but I feel like I'm moving through a fog a lot of the time, as if things aren't really real). Yesterday I called and arranged for garbage pickup to start at the house again - Jerry canceled it back in 2005 when the price got ridiculous, and we just brought trash and recycling to the shop and put it in the dumpsters there. I won't have that option anymore, so I called Waste Management and the price is still ridiculous ($27/month). And considering I don't eat meat and we have a composter... I mean, I have a composter... and it's just me now, there isn't going to be enough garbage and recycling to justify that amount, but I set it up anyway. I feel like I should just go around the house throwing out things whether I want to keep them or not, just to feel like I'm getting my money's worth. And here's the extra annoying part: of our eight lots... I mean, of my eight lots... God, this sucks... of my eight lots, three are in the village and five are in the township. If you live in the village, you pay for garbage pickup by buying individual stickers that you put on each garbage bag or can, and each sticker costs something like $1.50. So if they considered me to be living in the village, I'd pay $1.50 a week for garbage pickup, if I even had enough to have picked up in a given week. I suppose they decide based on which lots the house is on (this affects how I vote, too - I don't get to vote for village officials).
Anyway.
Today I met with the insurance agent and applied for an individual health insurance policy. No more dental insurance (my dentist isn't in the network, so no point). Knock wood for no more root canals in the near future.
Yesterday was the "re-employment workshop," in which a man and a woman talked to a room full of mostly white middle aged people about not chewing gum during job interviews and having a paragraph at the top of your resume stating your objective... or not (apparently HR experts can't agree on whether or not you should). Also that most jobs are found through networking, which just brings to my mind that line from The Commitments, "so you're fucked for starters." (Not knowing what I want to do, or am qualified to do besides things I've already done and don't particularly want to do again, doesn't help either.) Anyhow, the man, who did most of the talking, was one of those people who is very comfortable talking in front of a crowd, very gung-ho and self-confident - in fact I think he's a high school sports coach or something of the sort - but consistently uses the wrong words while he's speaking. I can only remember one example, because he repeated it twice, and by that time I'd noticed he was doing this - he talked about someone being at the "liberty" of someone's financial decisions, when he meant "mercy." But then again, he's employed right now and I'm not, and there's very little I loathe more than public speaking, so I shouldn't throw stones.
Still finishing up the last project at the shop. Seamus and I seem to have made this job last a lot longer than it had to - neither of us wants to complete it, since completing it means Wood Bros., Inc. Custom Cabinetmakers is really over. Even though it is, of course. I think the job is supposed to be picked up on Tuesday. But thinking of doing my last bit of staining, thinking of spraying my last coats of lacquer, is just breaking my heart. We're glad that if Wood Bros. had to fail, Jerry didn't have to know about it. A small mercy.
I'm crying more and more in the shop now (and at home, and in the car, and almost at a re-employment workshop, but not quite). I have noticed one thing that my brain is having a really hard time sorting out, which is my birthday. On the one hand, I really, really want to ignore my birthday this year - clearly I'm in no mood to celebrate anything, nothing about turning 48 (or anything else these days) is going to be making me happy, and I just want to get through that day like any other. But on the other hand I keep catching myself wondering if Jerry's got anything planned. He relied a lot on the Sundance Jewelry Catalogue to get him through each August, the sweetie, and we just got... I just got... that catalogue in the mail yesterday. And thought, for a split second, that I should save it for him, to make his life easier (we'd gotten a few earlier in the year and he smiled and said that we could recycle those, we'd get more closer to my birthday that he could use). So yeah, for some reason I'm having a hard time remembering reality when it comes to this particular thing.
I dreamt about Jerry again last night. I don't remember details, but somehow when I woke up I was under the impression that I'd been having to reassure him that I loved him, that in the dream somehow he wasn't sure. I hope my dreams are going to give me a break from this sort of misery. I know in reality he knew I loved him, I know he knew he was the love of my life, but to have to doubt that at all, just because of a stupid dream - hard to bear.
I finished up The Wire yesterday. Jerry would have been happy about Bubbs.
P.S. To Karen, your comment on the dancing photos didn't come through. That was a great night, though, wasn't it?
I think Jerry's need for reassurance of your love in your dream is the other side of your feeling that you don't want to live in this world without Jerry. And yet clearly (to me, at least) you can go on in this world without him and still not only have loved him but also continue to love who he was and what you had together.
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