2014.12.31

Two nights ago the garage started smelling like someone spilled nail polish all over the place, probably originating from old paint cans or something. Oddly, this did not panic MW as much as I thought it would. She did suggest we check into a hotel that night, but it was a half-hearted attempt at paranoid dementia and it wasn't too difficult to talk her down. I recommended a trip to the hardware store for a carbon monoxide detector, applying the logic that as long as we were clear of a gas leak, we were safe.

Just between you and I, I did not put a battery in the detector. Hell, I wasn't sure the paint fumes or whatever wouldn't set it off, and that would have been a disaster. Besides, I figured even though the garage is connected to the house, the fumes probably couldn't seep through the walls and if they did, well, dying in our sleep from carbon monoxide poisoning wouldn't be the worse thing that could happen, you know, looking at it long run.

And, yes, I was drunk when making that decision. Ho! I wouldn't wish the vodka dreams I had that night on anybody.

Anyway, we lived to see another day. Now you might be wondering why I didn't just clean out the garage myself to get rid of the offending smell? Tch. You haven't been paying attention. MW would not let me clean out the garage. Not even if I wore gloves and a mask. She insisted on calling a junk service to come and haul everything - every blessed thing - out of the garage as scrap.

Fine.

Tools, lawn equipment, bikes, shelves, anything you would expect to find in a garage: trash it all. Don't bother selling it or giving it to charity, just chuck it.

Good. Great.

That's what I learned over the course of 2014: how to let it all go. Last December I probably would have tried to reason with MW, spent a lot of time and energy arguing with her, but not now. Not anymore. Whatever MW wants, she gets - any decision she makes is the right one and will not be questioned, only encouraged.

Who knows? Maybe this attitude will get us through yet another year.

***

Clearly I'm not one to make resolutions, but there are a few things I'm hopeful to accomplish in 2015.

First and foremost - I would like to walk around the campus of the University of Houston one more time. This doesn't sound like much, but it has been gnawing at me since I had that fit of near crippling nostalgia last Summer. Recall how desperately I wanted to revisit my hometown in Kansas? Well that will never happen, so I had the second-best idea to foot-cruise my alma mater and walk those hallowed halls where, for a very brief time, I was in love and ridiculous.

UH is maybe twenty minutes away from my house, so I'd planned on making this trip during the Fall on a weekend when MW was working. Unfortunately I got wrapped up in a trial and most my Sept./Oct. weekends were spent at the office, so I never got the chance. Then Winter came with the short, dreary days and this is the type of event that requires warmth and sunshine.

Now I'm thinking sometime in the Spring. Around my birthday, perhaps. Can't you just picture it? Flowers in bloom, sun-fed steam rising from the footpath between the Quad and the Towers? At risk of being tagged a creepy old man, I could visit the OB beach and maybe spot a sunbathing beauty. Ha! I remember spending time there with a stunning young girl, talking about blues music - Bobby Blue Bland and BB King - under a midnight moon. She never wore shoes. The bottom of her feet were disgusting. Or I could try to sneak into Taub Hall - hell, creepy old man is as creepy old man does - and see who is living in my old dorm room now. Tell whomever it is some tales of love and loss.

Of course this all depends on if MW can continue to work weekends for a few more months. If not, then I'll never get the chance.

It is New Year's Eve. I'm at work drinking vodka and seltzer because nothing else is going on. It's getting to the point now where I can tell it's time to stop writing. Goodbye, 2014. You fucking cunt.