Here's an Update in Book Seven: Reconstruction 2020

It is late… actually, not really but my sense of time lately is totally fucked up so for me- I’m saying it is late.

After an entire week of telling my boss that we should all be working from home… y’know, cuz I’m a sickly bitch with Fibromyalgia, Glaucoma, and without my CPAP I stop breathing 30 seconds out of every minute when I’m sleeping… our county finally got a confirmed case of COVID. And Iowa started seeing a sharp uptick in COVID fatalities. So… instead of “maybe we should prevent catastrophe” my boss is a “now that shit hit the fan, we can act” kind of guy. And as much as I hate it in a situation like this, I totally get it. That is exactly the kind of attitude you should have as a Prosecutor. Because it would be LOVELY if we could say “Clearly, after the amount of abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, and domestic violence that has gone on… we need to intervene in this entire relationship.” That’d be great but we literally can’t. We have to basically say, “Yes, there has been a lot of abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, and domestic violence; but until he kills her we can’t do much.”

Anyway… last night, my boss said “Friday my staff is working from home.” So… NO IDEA if there is anything more than a single day of WFH.... which would be fucking idiotic since a single day of work from home won’t do shit… but that is where we are right now.

Meanwhile… the barrage of aggressive, hateful, offensive, threatening e-mails has TOTALLY gotten to me. Besides the increase in drinking and depression, this “Hate Mail for Work” has proven terrible for me as evidenced by dream content. Even while I am asleep and dreaming, my dreams have primarily been about all of the mean spirited hate mail I’ve been receiving through work. So… really no place to run to, nowhere to hide when it comes to oodles of “piling shit on to Chris.”

In response, my body and soul have become even more desperate for “physical tenderness and kindness” which… even if we weren’t in an international health crisis, would not be the easiest itch to scratch, if you catch my meaning.

On top of that, Nala is not handling the current stuff well. In fact, she IS actually handling it better than I could have anticipated but… still, it is rough. Me working from home, Martha not being at home… Nala is losing her fucking mind. Apparently, Nala demands 4 things.
(1) Whenever I am not engaged in active, deep work- I should play with her by chasing her around the house or chasing her around the yard
(2) She does not wish to eat her food unless one of two conditions is met- either Martha must be here and eating a meal; OR Braunschwager must be liberally applied to each and every kibble
(3) Whenever I am eating food, she should be included in some way. Despite the hard work we’ve put in to prevent her from being a Table Scrap Beggar, if I am eating then she is whining
(4) Any day where Martha does not visit is offensive beyond comprehension.

SO.... the summary of my week?

• People hate me, passionately and desperately
• Despite that, I’m trying with everything in me to protect and assist them
• The government I work for is trying as hard as they can to make sure they are mirroring National GOP policy because… it is best to remain in power and watch people die as opposed to doing the right thing and risking a political upset in the future
• I am so inadequate that even my dog is starting to think “what the hell, dude? Fuck you,”
• Yet despite all of that, what I most want is an attractive woman to make out with me, make me feel good inside, and maybe if I am particularly lucky- fuck me.
• And yet… here I sit… naked, alone, fat, short of breath, and without options.

I know my problems are mostly meaningless. There are people presently with genuine concerns. People who can’t afford food, can’t afford rent, can’t survive on what they have. This is a time where there are multiple genuine crises that deserve our attention and we should all be working to both aid those people AND continue social distancing so that we don’t overwhelm our beleaguered health care workers. Those are the things that matter. But I’m still sad about my shit. I’m still sad that the overwhelming social input I’m receiving is hatred. I’m still sad that most of my wants and desires remain unfulfilled at best and foolish pipe dreams at worst. I’m still sad that when I finally had the strength to say “I want a wife not a half assed room mate” just happened to coincide with a total global shut down.

Honestly? If it were not for COVID and if it were not for the fact that I am a prosecutor… I would reach out via FetLife to one of the Iowa Escorts and negotiate a price for the true/ultimate Girlfriend Experience. Because paying for it? I’d have someone that was more attractive, more attentive, more engaged, and someone MUCH MORE willing to have ANY kind of physical intimacy with me than anything I’ve experienced for the last… forever. But no. I am a prosecutor and we are in a time of necessary isolation. So here I shall sit. Receiving professional hate. Being one of the FEW people in this area to be self-quarantining as it is damned essential for people like me. Feeling… honestly… adrift.