The Week of Living Dangerously



Highlights of my week:

(1) called the coroner’s office, cremation site and others to find out what happened to Lorin’s wedding ring, watch and other jewelry. Turns out after numerous calls, that his jewelry appears to have been cremated along with him. Who does that? I have had to let this go. Won’t bring him back.

(2) got into a fender bender in the Walmart parking lot (I backed up into a woman’s car). I didn’t realize I had even hit her car (kind of dazed and confused lately), but she chased me down the road, honking and taking a photo of my license plate. I pulled over and we entered a small park where she let me know what had transpired. I looked at her fender, and could barely see anything. Am I going blind too? She was going through a difficult time (health issue), and she said, “I know my husband would be mad at me if I didn’t call the police . . . “. So she called the police, and a really cool female police officer (originally from Montana) took a report and the lady and I exchanged information. I told the lady about my situation and we ended up hugging before we parted ways.

It still felt totally ridiculous to me–I had to fill out a report online with Geico over something so trivial.

I have been feeling lately like I wish someone would run me down with their vehicle to put an end to this pain.

(3) Yesterday I took a drive to Tybee Island (one of Lorin’s and my favorite places), and took a long walk on the beach and got a hot dog and iced tea. On the way home, I got pulled over by a Tybee Island police officer.

He said, “Ma’am, did you know your right brake light is out?”

“No, I didn’t,” I said.

I handed him my registration, insurance card and temporary Georgia license. He spent a long time in his car mulling over my paperwork. He gave me a “caution” and said to please get the light fixed promptly.

Lorin and I had the right brake light “fixed” over a dozen times, but it never took. I even asked my mother-in-law’s husband to check the light when I got home. He followed me in his car and said it worked fine at times, then got faint. He also checked the light bulb and said it was fine. It might be the connection, but at this point, I think it’s unfixable and don’t want to purchase a new car at the moment.

(3) Good Stuff: My contractor buddies helped me set up some furniture in the condo and came by today to put up the panel curtains I bought for the porch (sliding glass doors open onto screened-in porch.). They are such good guys and they have done beautiful work in my new home.

(4) Last night I watched “The Invisible Man” (1933) with Claude Rains on TCM. It’s much funnier than I ever thought–the lady who runs the boarding house is a riot.

(5) Samson is my constant companion. He gives me a rather indignant look whenever I leave the house. We are considering adopting a kitten (not till after the holidays, of course).

(6) Last night I also decided that widowhood can make you think in ways you never thought you would. I was fantasizing about scoring some heroin and finding someone to have random sex with. Why not?

(7) Today I tried to close down Lorin’s Facebook account, and while doing so, found numerous articles on google about the car accident. I read one of the articles and saw the shattered car window on the driver’s side, and once again, saw Lorin lying on the earth dead. Realizing he probably flew through that window. Why did I have to see that? I can’t undo having seen it.

Nothing, I mean, nothing, makes sense to me anymore.

Oh, that, and Trump is now our president.

17 thoughts on “The Week of Living Dangerously

  1. Oh, oh, oh. Erica, I love seeing you in any way: writing, sharing, being. The hug with the fender-bender lady, one of those little gifts from the universe? I was knocking back a bloody mary last night at Sardi’s, still trying to gag down the disbelief over Trump, and on the screen above the bar was “The Invisible Man”, right where Claude Rains throws his glass. I took a pic of the next scene. Posted on FB. I am so so sorry you had to see googled pics. Please, no heroin. Kittens, yes.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s good to see you out and about. The Invisible Man, one of my favorites (I love old movies).
    We’re practically neighbors, I live in FLoriida as do a few other bloggers I know. I wish you well and take care… JC

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Erica, your writing is as powerful and compelling as ever. I grieve with you anew over the way Lorin was thrown from the car. I wish you could un-see it too. I’m grateful to see your sense of humor and irony intact. I”m happy you and Samson are together. Grateful to you for this window into your world.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. We need another option other than “like”. How about “sorry for the shit show” “puke” or “an angry cat face”? I’m so sorry you had to see those photos again, and sure as hell didn’t need more aggravation with the car…or horribly, Lorin’s wedding ring and property. I wonder if you can file a complaint somewhere. I’m so sorry. Sending you love!


  5. You’re a strong woman, Erica, with a wise and gentle touch. I remember another woman on a different site who professed such strength. She could take lessons from you. So could I, truth to tell. I’d be a basket case in your place. So glad you have Samson.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Oh, Erica, auch difficult times you are going through. I’m sorry you had to see that picture, and I hope and pray happier memories will be able to fill that space. I can’t imagine the pain you are feeling. I hope you and Sammy get your kitten and that many kindnesses and hugs come your way to help you along the way. I’m so glad you are able to write, and I hope that helps you along the way too. Sending much love to you. You are dear to my heart. 💟


  7. I love that photo of Samson and am so glad he’s there with you. I do wish, though, that things were easier. And that all kinds of photos weren’t so easily accessible online. I’m happy that you do have small pleasures to make you happy, as well as unexpected fantasies (my drug-related one is getting really into pot and becoming a totally laid-back hippie instead of the neurotic girl I am today – that, or doing a lot of coke and finally writing The Great American Novel). I hope you hold all of these close and let them help you get through the difficult moments. I often think of you and Samson over here, and am sending you both love and healing thoughts.

    Liked by 1 person

Your Thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.