Playing with the Knave of Hearts

What am I to do about Sir Knight? He is in the midst of another one of his pull away maneuvers. I asked for an innocent favor because it was about health and not teasing him. He said no. I then did what I am prone to do when I am displeased; I ignore the offender. I guess he didn't like that. One avoided glance, the barest whiff of disdain and he sat his butt on a counter and waited until I was ready to leave the room. He followed me out the door like a puppy. And ya know what? I hate that imagery. I hate it! Hate it! Hate it! Not only does it seem emasculating but dehumanizing. And it is. He made me deal a girl card from the bottom of the deck and I hate that. Of course I am surprised it worked, I really tend to suck at those kinds of things. But I am angry that it was even necessary. And I got what I wanted. Knots removed from shoulder, failed to pass out from the pinched nerves. Sir Knight did as he always does... deliver the goods with a cheery disposition after the requisite refusal.
Then bragged about it. I wasn't gonna say anything to anybody about it because I was shocked and touched by the gesture. And because I thought talking about it was cheap. But he went right to the person in front of whom he declined my request most unknightly, I might add, and told her that I talked him into it.
I think Sir Knight has been demoted to a knave. And if he thinks hes gonna run off with this Queen of Hearts' tarts he's in for one hell of a rude awakening.

Look around or you'll miss something

If I have mastered anything in my life it is the technique of the less than artful dodge. While I should be condensing, packing, sorting and washing laundry at home, I have been avoiding being there. Some of it is the legit pursuit of looking for housing. The rest is this compelling desire to run. I've mentioned that befoere. I want to run until I can run no longer, collapse in a heap and be done withthe race... even if I am only half way thorugh. My sister would accuse me of laying down and dying. And I can't help but think that sounds pretty good right now.
I am tired. I have been running in circles, chasing my tails and smashing my self into road blocks and knocking over hurdles that are to high to clear. I am tired. I need to stop, regroup and decide if I am in the right race. Or maybe I need to run for the joy of the exercise not out of some insane need to keep up. Or out of trouble. I need to stop and look around. So I don't want to do what needs to be done. It seems futile and fruitless.
And yes. A lot of it has to do with Sir Knight, the estate hanging over my head and this overwhelming sense that I have let some things slide so far down the hill that to drag it back up would take many lifetimes. The other part is that with all this running around that was supposed to appease people or shut them the hell up... I've lost sight of how to care for myself. Oh I bathe, I eat, I wash laundry. But I don't take time to tend the soul, really nurture my friendships and talk to the Big Kahuna. Nothing else matters if the soul suffers. But I feel guilty for it. I shouldn't. But I do.