The Texas Bohemian

Word artist. Jack of all Trades.

Futility.

No kidding.

Our master bath is a wreck. My closet has nothing in it. The carpet is pulled up, plywood drying out, a new water heater sitting where the old one was. The new water heater cost $250 we didn’t have. Don’t know where we’ll get the dough to fix the floor. It’s a mess.

In the master bath our bed and night-stand are all pulled back from the window where the a/c is. The condensate drain stopped up and the floor got soaked–for the second time in a week. The first time I thought the problem was rain since it happened at the same time a storm came through. I had to pull the a/c out of the window, take it apart, clean the condensate, and re-position it in the window. The floor is still wet.

The tub fixture in the kids’ bath is broken, can’t use the hot water.

My mom is facing surgery and says she’s in bad pain. My oldest brother, the grand and wonderful Christian that he is, can’t get along with my mom well enough to stay with her even though he is the only member of the family who could. My little sister says she’ll take care of mom – – as soon as Vacation Bible School is over! If I speak up and take over mom’s affairs to make sure she’s safe I’ll piss off the siblings and she’ll be upset. If I keep my mouth shut Mom will be neglected and left along.

My oldest daughter wants to go back to school because she’s lonely. If she goes she has no chance of amounting to anything. School sucked away all her motivation and neglected her education for a decade. When she came to live with us I tried every way in the world to light a fire under their ass but they still treated her like a retarded idiot and passed her right on into high school when her educational level is somewhere around upper elementary. She’s 15. How can I tell her what kind of life she’ll face if she doesn’t bust her rear to do better?

The other day I commented to my wife as we were working to make our garden that in a couple of decades all we were doing would not matter. Does that make all our efforts futile? We work and struggle and strive and in half a century we’ll be nothing more than a memory–if that. Even though our spirit will move on, what purpose will our lives have served?

Yesterday I sat in a chair in the yard being despondent. I watched a couple birds fly overhead. The garden, green and growing, was nearby. Up at treetop level some kind of dragonfly was buzzing, zipping back and forth in the clearing. All those things seem to have more purpose than I.

Should I even WANT a purpose? Shouldn’t I just live life, putter along and grow as old as I can and then die, like every other human on the earth?

I’m wide awake and I want to go back asleep. But I can’t.

Even this post seems futile.

I think I’ll eat lunch.

June 16, 2008 - Posted by | Blather | , ,

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