I Hate Labor Day weekend

I just finished potting a bunch of rose cuttings and posted the picture on Facebook. I guess I’ll slap it on here, too. I swear, next year’s hobby is going to be something where I can get some money back after I make it. Maybe wind chimes. You can find those in tobacco barns and McMansions. Just no more summers of working my ass off with nothing to show at the start of the fall, okay, Doug?

So I’m still hating Labor Day weekend this year. I thought it would be different, since I was dating someone over the summer this time around, but that went South real fast.  Speaking of relationships gone South, I saw Debbie yesterday. It was nice to see her, now that we’re just friends. I gave her a car full of plants to take home, including a rose bush for her and one for each of her kids. Plus potting soil and Soil moist so they’ll have the best chance to survive. And a bottle of wine I’d had in the fridge for 8 months! We went to lunch at the Chinese place on Village Rd. I’m not going back, but I will still call them every few weeks to ask if they’ve seen my cat. She’s a real sweetheart and seeing her yesterday helped liven up what is always a shitty holiday.

While I was finishing up the last group of cuttings this afternoon, I was talking to Nick over the fence. Maybe I’m going fishing with him and his father in-law tomorrow morning. I used to go fishing almost every day. Since I moved? I’ve been once with Chuck, and we went two weeks too early. I would really like to go, just to take my mind off things. I’m also invited over tonight for drinks. the problem with that is that if I drink tonight, I won’t get up early for fishing tomorrow!

I think what I actually want to do tonight is grab a shower (I smell like a donkey after working in the garden all day), throw a steak on the grill, eat dinner, and watch a zombie movie. Something with a good mix of guns and suspended disbelief. Or maybe something old fashioned and campy. I don’t care, I just want to take my mind off things.

It isn’t right, though, to just let it pass by. Every year, I get depressed at the end of August. I never think about it much until the beginning of September, as if I have a mental block. On September 1, 2002, Dad died. That was the Sunday of labor day weekend that year. I fucking HATE this weekend, and I always end up spending it by myself., without fail. I’m always single on labor Day weekend, so I’ve got nobody that I feel comfortable talking to about it. I tried talking to a good friend of mine today, but he was off to a cookout and didn’t have time. Fuck it.

I know that everybody loves their parents, but my Dad was special. Everybody that knew him will tell you the same. And he was my BEST friend, my best friend EVER. It has been nine years and I still tune up like a 2 spanked toddler when I think about it. There is a hole inside me that is never going to go away, never going to be filled, because he’s gone. I talked to him about anything and everything. There were no secrets between us. hell, for a three year stretch, I worked at Revlon, which, to me, was Hell on earth. I was allergic to something floating around in the air there and it gave me horrible, crippling headaches. But, I’ll tell you, for the last two years I worked there, when I was on the same shift as Dad and we carpooled together, the best parts of the day were driving home and driving to work, even though I knew I’d be hurting enough to puke my guts out some days, I still looked forward to our time together.

A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think about him, when I don’t miss him. I want to tell him what projects I’m working on, what pranks I’ve played, just shoot the shit with him. I miss you, Dad.

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