I got a weird call from Norton's mom - I'm guessing she'd been into the cooking sherry. She wasn't as blubbery as some drunks I've known over the years, but she would be in the top 10. She waffled between complaining about her little boy growing up, and threatening to come over and poison my cats. When she started complaining about my lawn I couldn't help myself.
"Look Mrs. McCleary, you've been complaining about my lawn for the last couple of years, and you know as well as I do that Norton has been cutting my grass. I wish you'd lay off -if you don't like the job your son is doing on my lawn - you tell him!"
There was silence, broken by a snuffle.
"Besides, he's a grown man. You need to let him grow up. He needs to learn to do things on his own. He can't even cross the street without you coddling him. You drive him to my house for crying out loud."
I felt bad. Not so much for her but for me. She was losing a son and I was gaining an unwanted house guest and I was too much of a coward to stand up for myself. Maybe I wanted the company. Then again, maybe I was secretly wanting to punish myself, and the most punishing thing I could think of would be to have Norton come and live in my house, with my cats, and take up some of my personal space.
He wasn't here yet - but by the weekend my solo days would be over.
Meanwhile I had another day of freedom. Sort of. Friday I have an appointment with Vernon. I am more nervous about this than I'm letting on, and I'd been putting it off for a couple of weeks - and this is probably something I should look at sooner than later.
Besides the best thing about procrastinating is that tomorrow is indeed another day.
Until tomorrow then.
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