Dying Without God
Published in

Dying Without God

New Beginnings

Date on picture should be 05 March 2019

I have officially moved.

This is the view from My back porch. Not another house in sight. I’m sure this is going to be beautiful in the spring/summer/fall. (Most of the year, in other words.)

We finally got moved in and, after a few days’ delay, have a real phone (landline), Internet (obviously) and satellite TV. Personally I haven’t owned a television for years but My sister and her beau can’t stand to be without it. (And the guy who installed the phone and Internet was so cute!)

Not living in the city any longer means that I have no choice but to cook. I don’t think that there are any pizza places around that deliver, let alone Hispanic or Burger Kings. My sister has not loaded up on microwave meals (one thing I was fearing) although she appears to be sodium-addicted. I have cooked a full meal for them already that they say was excellent. I’m about 84.72% sure that they’re be honest (average for both of them).

It was actually something new for Me: I made Ethiopian Chicken and Vegetables, and didn’t have access to the Internet at the time so I just kind of winged it without a recipe. (That’s boneless chicken breasts browned in butter, diced potatoes and mushrooms, about a can of low-sodium chicken broth, a few tablespoons of berbere spice along with a few others, cooked in a cast-iron Dutch oven for about an hour.) Served alongside some jasmine rice. (My sister had made a stir fry the day before and used Minute Rice; that got My inner chef a bit horrified. He’s kind of a food snob. And yes I talk about him in the third person. I’m a special kind of crazy.)

Do you know how long it’s been since I sat down with other (real) people and shared a home-cooked meal? And this is going to be a regular thing from now on. I get to COOK now! I’ve already made grits, sausage and sauerkraut, sausage and grits, a pork chop (while also … um … testing the smoke alarm; it works fine), baked potato topped with eggs, an omelet, pasta salad, eggs over easy, and put together My signature homemade condiments: valsa and mvstard. Planning on some medium-rare rib-eye steak tonight alongside a tomato-onion sauce with a side of quinoa.

So it appears that whatever time I have left here in My existence is going to be pretty comfortable and amazing. I do have a new PCP tentatively selected, I’ll be going to see him this Wednesday. (Which, coincidentally, is when My benefits are paid, so I may get some shopping done as well.) Then I’ll try to either find a hepatologist close by or go back to the one in Houston. If I only have to go to the one in Houston every few months that might be preferable as meats and spices are cheaper and much more diverse there. (Example: I can’t find any bone-in rib-eye steak around here at any price, and what they’re charging for the boneless is noticeably higher than what’s being charged in Houston. I don’t know if I can get reasonably-priced steaks that I want delivered mail-order either, though I’ll check.)

One thing that I am going to miss somewhat about Houston is getting to know people. The people around here are incredibly friendly, it’s just that living where We do makes it rough to actually forge new relationships with anybody. Add to that the fact that I don’t drive, and My agoraphobia is going to really like it here even if the part of Me that doesn’t like being alone all the time could get a bit stir-crazy. That is one benefit to having an imaginary friend — er, I mean, going to church: There is an already extant social network of other people who are similarly deluded. Kind of like a support group for mental illness.

Another hazard of living out this far is that if I have an episode and start to wander off, it’s going to be very difficult to find Me. In Houston, I’d usually head to a bus stop, of which there are none around this area. I kind of wonder where I’ll go if that happens. Could be fun … I think.

I am a little bit scared though. This is just so nearly perfect … too perfect. When I don’t have anything to worry about, I start to get worried. I don’t feel like I deserve to be this happy. It’s like deep down I have this feeling that something is going to happen to trigger Me and I’ll say or do something that won’t be, shall We say, well-received. And given that My family’s understanding of mental illness is several decades out of date, the repercussions might be harsh. I love the fact that I’m living closer to My family but at the same time their prejudices and delusions might make it difficult. They might not align with My own prejudices and delusions! :-)




A terminally ill atheist muses (and rants) about His immortality (or lack thereof).

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Davyd Ondrejko

Davyd Ondrejko

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