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Homesick.

It’s Friday and I cannot tell you how glad I am that this week is over and the weekend is finally here. I’m so relieved.

You see. More drama ensued after Mr. Joe Williams’ initial refusal to my lease. He called me. Again. At my work. And he proposed a negotiation.

Sigh…

I will not go into the details. All I will say is that after meeting him in person, I can think of a cluster of fictional villains based on his person. And it saddens me that this man feels the need to belittle those around him in order to gain status, power, money, and whatever else. No sense of courtesy or the slightest hint of integrity. None.

But I’m done with the whole situation. After this, I won’t ever speak of him again. I promise you (and myself).

After the encounter, I came to a realization. And that’s what I’d like to write about.

Norma, cubicle buddy and best friend here, went through all this turmoil with me. She witnessed the discovery, my excitement, my enamored expression when we went inside the apartment, and she saw my devastation when it was all taken away from me. And she went with me to meet Junior and she stood by me and let me speak and when I said everything I wanted to, she took me out for a drink.

“What makes me sick,” she said, sipping her latte and piecing her thoughts together, “is that I could see in your face, when you were in that apartment, that it was the first time you’ve felt at home since you moved here.”

She is an amazing woman. Very few people can look at me and just know what I’m thinking, what I’m going through, and relate. As much as I say out loud, I have a great deal of secret thinking that I would never admit and the only way to find me out is to be miraculously intuitive.

But this time, Norma knew it even before I did. But as soon as she said it, I knew it was true. I’m not upset about the apartment and I’m not bitter toward Joe V. Williams, III… I’m so sad that I found home, but it won’t get to be home.

And all I want is to go home.