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Turkish Delight

December 12, 2012

It is comforting to know that one is not aloooooone alone, and it is sobering (for me, because I put my sorrowful self at the center of things a bit too much) to realize that some people who understand exactly what I was feeling in the last post understand it because their beloved has died. I am going to be with my stepbrother, whose wife died this past spring, at Christmas. He’s facing his first giant family holiday with his daughters and without his wife, and some of you who read and commented are facing similar horrors, and I am just so sorry. And please forgive me if I come across as a spoiled twat. I chose this life all by myself, and thus must take my medicine. I know that none of you meant to rebuke me at all–you are very, very kind–but consider me duly chastened. It is dreadful to be lonely, but I am luckier by far than many. It does me good to remember that. And it’s never good to wallow.

Today I woke up sick–fever, chills, inability to remain upright–and have spent most of the day wrapped in a blanket, shivering. My car–the expensive and temperamental old Volvo–has begun making a dreadful noise, and I think it is ready for the glue factory. I found it hard to give a shit today, because I felt so awful, but I do think I’ll have to deal with getting a car that actually runs at some point. I would love to punt this chore to a husband (it’s a boy thing, in my experience, giving a shit about cars) but it’s a sign that things are improving that I was only mildly annoyed,  instead of horribly undone, by the idea of having to cope. (I did have a tiny pang thinking that, in the old days, I secretly welcomed this sort of chore. Anything to keep my ex-husband home from the lab. It’s kind of pathetic to contemplate.)

So as soon as I feel human, I’ll start looking for a car. A used car. From a dealer, because I am too old to go dicking around with shady characters on Craigslist. Not terribly challenging, and not rocket science, either. Well within the realm of feasibility. Which didn’t stop me from complaining mightily to Emma, who suggested we pack up our troubles in an old kit bag and hightail it far, far away…

E: Let’s just move to Turkey. I’m sick of this shit.

Me: Turkey. Sounds wonderful. The thyme, the goats. We’d be digging in the garden and find a Roman coin.

E: Break for a thick sugary coffee. Nap. Late afternoon stroll when the heat has died down.

Me: The toothless crone from the next farm over, appearing with a crock of olive oil and a twist of newspaper in which she has placed homemade goat cheese. Pantomime conversation.

E: And a branch of cherries, snapped straight from the tree (a man did this for me in Greece).

At this point I had to step away from the internet, so intense was my longing for Mediterranean bliss. I stared out the window resentfully for a while, then decided that this line of fantasy would never do.

Me: I just got ringworm from one of our goats. And the septic’s backed up. And the other neighbor picked all our olives, that old man in black who carries the stick and spits. Can you go argue with him? I’m afraid to.

Emma didn’t miss a beat.

E: I can’t. I’m hiding from the cross eyed simpleton from the bar that I snogged when I drank too much ouzo a few nights ago. And my sunburn is weeping.

It gets worse.

Me: I have been paying the Elektro-Turk bill all wrong, it turns out, and now our power’s cut off and I can’t understand what the horrible woman at the office is saying. I think she may be about to have me arrested. So much for that fish we bought from the whimsical fish man at the harbor before you went off with the simpleton–I’m sure it’ll be spoiled by the time the fridge is up and running. Also, a donkey just trampled all the lettuces.

There was more–at some point we decided the simpleton from the bar was named Yaris (thus deftly weaving the Turkish strand of our conversation in with the car buying strand). He had a vengeful wife, but that’s not really the point. The point is simply that the internet makes everything all right, and running away to Turkey does not. I took a long nap, and drank a pot of tea, and felt better. (Emma’s trials, alas, were far from over….)

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11 Comments leave one →
  1. December 12, 2012 10:36 pm

    Next time I’m sick we’re playing this game! (Sorry you’re not well and the car stuff sounds like no fun at all. Hope all is better soon.)

  2. Twangy permalink
    December 13, 2012 5:59 am

    My hair is standing on end after reading Emma’s trials. GOOD GRIEF. Twenty thousand!

    Yes. I have learned helplessness (after being single until I was 36, this), on the husband. The other day I caught myself leaving a broken butter dish on the counter for him. There, I thought, he’s the gluer in this house. I could do it myself, of course, I thought. But left it for him nonetheless.

    I have no conclusion to this, mind you. Just a state of play.

    Feel better, over there – I always despair when I am unwell, I am sure that is not helping. But all will be well. Health will be restored. All will be well.

    • irretrievablybroken permalink*
      December 13, 2012 8:39 pm

      It’s always hard to determine what is virus and what is virulent despair…at least at first. Looking back I can see I felt awful before I felt awful. But the good news is that illness does pass, and somehow feeling physically terrible gives one a culprit, at the very least…do you know what I mean???

      xxx

  3. telechick permalink
    December 13, 2012 8:00 am

    I don’t think you were being a spoiled twat at all. Loneliness sucks no matter what the source or cause. Trust me, I’m happy for you that it was your choice (sorry if that sounds odd). I’m glad you’ll be there for your brother this Christmas. A wonderful thing you could do for him is to take his children shopping so that he’ll have some presents from them that he didn’t have to buy himself.

    Good luck with the car purchasing. I will be in your shoes in the new year I think. My beloved Subaru is nearing 193K miles and I don’t want to have to deal with its upcoming inspection in March. I know what car I would love to buy, but whether or not I will decide to spend the exhorbinant amount it would cost to purchase ($30K – I’ve never spent more than $10K on a car before) remains to be seen.

    Feel better soon!

    • irretrievablybroken permalink*
      December 13, 2012 8:38 pm

      That’s a brilliant idea, and it would give me a chance to hang out with his kids. Thank you so much. I think of you often and hope you are doing well, or as well as can be expected. You are quite a comfort to me, and I wish I could be the same to you.

      What kind of car are you thinking of getting? Cars cost as much as I think houses should cost. I still think about the first car I ever bought with my ex-husband–six hundred dollars, a Volkswagen Rabbit Diesel. It leaked. And it was very hard to get it to go in first gear. Basically it was a sort of trumped up bicycle with a smelly loud motor…I loved it, though. I want a Honda Fit, which Emma said sounded like something for the Wii and not a real car at all.

      • telechick permalink
        December 14, 2012 3:57 pm

        I can’t take credit for the gift idea – it was posted on one of the widow sites I now frequent. It is a great idea though, and not one that had ever occurred to me either.

        Thank you for your words of support. Reading your blog is a very enjoyable diversion, so you are helping.

        What I would love is a Jetta wagon TDI stick – I miss driving a stick which I realize is a bit insane given how often I find myself stuck on the Schuylkill. We’ll have to see if sober reality wins out over impulse and lust. I suspect that sober reality will win, but it’s nice to dream.

        Emma is right about the Fit. How funny!

  4. December 13, 2012 7:32 pm

    That was hilarious. I have not yet had a chance to read about the trials of Belgian Waffle, but I will do that next.

  5. December 14, 2012 7:10 am

    The ringworm is still making me laugh. I did actually once get ringworm from a horse in Morocco. Sigh. I think our Plan B of being companions to Gerard Depardieu in his Belgian exile is a winner though. Also, I wish you NOT TO BE SICK. If only I could arrange this, eh.

  6. Elena permalink
    December 15, 2012 12:12 am

    I have ringworm now and I hope I at least got it in Europe. Thanks for the laugh and your last post made me want to be close to my boyfriend despite and because our four young ones.

  7. Nimble permalink
    December 28, 2012 4:28 pm

    Excellent nipping the yearning in the bud. And my neighbor, the Economics professor, says that you want to buy from a dealer and sell on Craigslist. So good hunting once you’re up to it.

  8. January 2, 2013 4:24 pm

    I have a Honda Fit and I love it! So cute! So orangey! And the fact that it could be a Wii thingy makes it even better.

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