Hide The Mess

IE 9 Can Suck It

Ever since the auto update to IE 9 I haven't been able to post here. I have like five entries roaming around in my head and every time I tried to post - it wouldn't and I would get frustrated and log out because my time is limited. I finally went in and un-installed that update. Fingers crossed that it works this time. Geesh. Also, let me just say, I hate the way IE 9 moved the favorites and other buttons to the right - HELLO? - that was a stupid update. Years and years of having those things on the left and suddenly they want to move them, with no option to move it back? Eff off butt-holes.

Last week my husband and I had a conversation that turned into a fight because when my husband gets defensive he likes to take things and turn them around and make it about me. I hate that. And I really have to focus on keeping the conversation on topic and not let it devolve into some nonsense about how I'm a hypocrite. The conversation was about ... DINNER. No lie. About how he wants better / different / more well rounded meals. Ok, fine, that's great. I am on board. But don't just throw that out there and then bring nothing to the table in terms of ideas. You want better meals? PLAN THEM. Christ almighty. Just because we have many traditional roles in this house (he does the money and the lawn and I do EVERYTHING ELSE - well, not really - he does more than that it's just sometimes it feels like I do more.) doesn't mean he can't put a menu together or come up with some meals he wants. Hell, I'm willing to cook those meals, just give me ideas. Because I have the diet of a seven year old and will eat peanut butter sandwiches every night for dinner and call it good. In fact, may times as a single person, that's exactly the dinner I had for weeks on end. Last night, he took the bull by the horns and made dinner. Didn't take a survey to see if that sounded good to me, and you know what? It was awesome. If he had asked - "Do you want fish?" - the answer would have been "no!". The answer will always be "no" because I don't love fish and don't ever think it sounds good, but you know what? He made it and I ate it and it was good. It wasn't that hard. I don't know why he just doesn't do that more often. Just plan it and make it. If I was a full-time stay at home mom and part of my responsibilities included planning and executing every meal for dinner, ok, that's fine. But I am not a full-time stay at home mom. I work full time, I have two days a week where I work from home AND take care of our son, so those days are actually my hardest because I'm doing two full time jobs at once, so you know, help a sister out every once in a while. I do think that the division of duties in our home will always be the thing we fight about. Very original, yes? Seriously, if I list what I do and compare it to what he does, sure, I have more actual items, but I have to stop myself from doing that, because the things he takes care of weigh more. He pays all the bills and handles the money. That is more critical than, lets say, laundry. Both are important, but the power won't be shut off if I get behind on laundry, but if he gets behind on paying bills, the consequences are greater.

There's more going on and more crap I need to get out of my head but the clock is ticking and I have to get back to work. Damn adult responsibilities.

Divorce

On the world wide web this week a blogger I have been following for years shared that she and her husband have separated. I don't have any opinions about their marriage, I mean, they aren't people I know in real life so who am I to speculate on the inter-workings of their home life? It's really just made me think about the impact divorce has in a long reaching sort of way. My parents have been divorced since 1987 (they were married for 20 years) and I think back to what it was like at first, and all of the usual things happened. Lines were drawn. A villain was cast. Fortunately (I guess) my sister and I were old enough to hop in a car and go see my Dad whenever we wanted. We didn't have a whole custody thing, it just wasn't necessary. Even though my Dad played the part of the villain, in all honesty, as far as divorces go, my parents was pretty clean and tidy. It was only  years later, well into my own self absorbed adulthood, that details started to spill out and I learned things about my parents that I didn't necessarily want to know. You would think that the biggest impact to our lives would occur at the beginning. My Dad moved out. My Mom cried, a lot. And my sister was angry that her senior year in high school had been hijacked by my selfish parents. But where I really feel the effects, where it interrupts my life and makes things complicated, is now. Not when I was 16. Divorce sucks because it forever requires the children involved to choose. Christmas: Mom or Dad? Thanksgiving: Mom or Dad? Want to have a birthday party? Do we invite them both? In my case, the answer is yes, invite them both, because my parents do not have a vicious hate for one another, or if they do, they keep that shit to themselves, as they should. And it's not just the holidays that are complicated. Although that is where I generally feel the effects most often. When my son was born, I wished it could have just been my parents there, and not my step parents too. That sounds so shitty doesn't it? But it's not like I grew up in a house with these step parents. I was in college when my parents remarried, so like it or not, they are really, in my head, My Mom's Husband and My Dad's Wife. I call them both by their first name. I don't feel especially parented by either one, although my step dad did at one point in my complicated young adulthood counsel me and try and help me navigate my emotional terrain, but that's more because he's a minister, and that's what he does, than because I am his step daughter. There are times, even now, 25 years later, that I resent the hell out of their divorce. Not because I want them to be together, really, because I never had those "My parents will get back together" hopes and dreams, but I resent it all the same. When people with children get divorced, it changes everyones lives. Forever. Not just in the short run when it comes to who lives where and who gets what. But in the long run too. They will always have to choose, no matter how you try and set it up so they don't, at some point, in the quiet of their own home, they will have to choose.

It's All Very Confusing.

I can't tell you how many times I have thought recently that I need to write something down and yet now that I sit here with a few moments to myself I can't remember a damn one of them! I should really start writing them down on little sheets of paper the second they pop in my head. I used to do that all the time. I had little notebooks stashed everywhere. In my purse. In my car. In my bag for work. Everywhere. I still have one in my purse, I believe the last entry was sometime in 2007. The year I met my husband and my life got all upside down and FULL. That's been my biggest excuse for not writing lately. It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's just that I have so very little time to myself anymore. My life is full. And I'm not complaining about that. Seriously, I spent 20 years on my own, keeping myself company, filling up my life the best I could. Then I got married and I don't have to actually put effort into filling it up. It just happens. Even though if you ask me what we're doing this weekend I don't think we have anything planned, socially, but the Be A Grown Up stuff takes up a lot of time. House cleaning, laundry, car maintenance, baby watching, grocery shopping. It chews into the day and so by the evening we're kind of done and just want to sit on the couch and catch up on our recorded Tosh.O or whatever.

Our kid is not too fond of food these days and my mom suggested that we sit down for family meals so he can watch and participate and maybe that would get him more interested. The problem with that is he goes to bed at like 6:30-7:00pm and when you work all day it means you gotta get home, get dinner made and get the Wee One in bed during the first hour you're home and let me tell you, that is exhausting. I know because we actually tried it a couple of times. I know my kid goes to bed early but that's because he gets up early and if you tell me to put him down later so he will sleep later I will CUT YOU because that did not work. Nothing has worked actually. I keep waiting for this phase to be over. The phase where he wakes up once or twice a night. The phase where he gets up sometimes as early as 4am (UNACCEPTABLE). And if you tell me it's not a phase I will cut you some more. My son is 11 months old today and he still wakes during the night, doesn't hold a bottle for himself (does not act interested in that in any way shape fashion or form) and is less than thrilled with solid foods. According to my mother, he's sort of like me. Which is rude and I wish he would knock it off.

I could go on and on about my kid and the things that worry / cause me frustrated rage. But I won't. Mainly because if I write all that down the internet will run out of space, because people, I know how to worry. I have a Ph.D. in that shit.

Other random shit: In relationships sometimes someone has a vision for your life together that isn't entirely the same as yours. What's odd about this is that it's not a bad vision, it's not a wicked path full of darkness and scary things. It's fine. It's just not one I would have chosen and sometimes I have to really pep talk myself into being enthusiastic about it because at the end of the day, it's not my vision, it's not my dream. How do other people do that when their significant other wants something that their partner is just "meh" about? I want to be supportive and I want to be a team player. I just don't always know how to do that in this context. It feels forced and fake. And I really hate that. More than anything. Because what he wants, in his mind, will benefit the family, and all I can see is more work for me. How selfish is that shit right there? But honestly, the second it comes up I think about all the time I don't have now and envision that there will be even less of it when Situation X takes off. I need to adjust my attitude and my thinking, I'm just not sure what that should look like. Gah. Marriage and parenting are confusing.

Untitled because I can't think of one

This morning I woke up with what appear to be bug bite marks all over my back. I have no idea what little creature bit me while I was sleeping, but it is astounding to me that it didn't wake me up. It's either bug bites, a rash or hives. My husband says bug bites. So I'm going with that. But seriously, WTF?

Therapy again this week. It was fine. I'd forgotten how painful therapy can actually be. But it's necessary. I know that. I must get out of this black pit of despair because it sucks ass. Actually, I wouldn't even call it despair, that implies some sort of intense feeling, when in reality, what is happening is that I feel nothing. I feel like I'm on the outside of everything. I don't feel like I'm connected to anything or anyone. Except the baby. I still feel wildly connected to that child. But everything else in my life tastes vanilla. When the therapist asked me how I felt I said: "eh, fine". I don't want to just feel fine. I want to feel happy. Peaceful. Content. And I just feel nothing. Like I've shut off something inside myself. It's quite awful to be honest. There are things I'm challenged with doing over the next month, before my next appointment. Things that require the help of my husband, and for some reason, asking for help with things that I see as "my job" is really difficult. It feels like I'm a failure somehow. And that feeling leads to horrible thoughts about being left because I am not perfect and I can't do everything. And those thoughts create so much anxiety and fear in me. The whole abandonment bullshit. The over played, over used, fear of abandonment, but regardless of how over played and over used that is, it is so true for me right now. Something about having a child has resulted in this gigantic fear that my husband will leave. My fear that my husband will leave makes me act insane, so then I think the fact that I'm acting insane will drive him away. It's this stupid, stupid thought process that just takes off on its own and I have a hard time keeping it from going completely off the flipping rails. How do other women do this? What do other women who have a child and find themselves plunged into depression, how do they get out? How do they find themselves again, because I feel like I'm disappearing, that I'm losing myself. That nothing brings me joy (except my kid) anymore. I rarely write, I haven't read a book since I was on maternity leave, I only occasionally go to the gym and that's a recent development, for my mental health. But honestly, how do other women find the time and energy to take care of themselves? I know it's so common for mothers to put themselves last, and I actually thought it was kind of a cop out, but now I understand it. At the end of the day, after working and taking care of the baby and household chores, I just don't have the time or energy to do much except maybe play on my iPhone (Words With Friends is ADDICTING!) and watch TV. Sometimes it feels like my husband and I just simply pass each other in the halls. And that just adds to the fear that he's going to leave because I am spread thin and try to give him as much attention as possible but it feels like not enough. It feel like I am not enough. That I do not have enough time, energy or even enough of me to fill anything up. Everything I have to give is spread out over all of these other things, outside of me, and there is nothing left for me. And barely anything left for my husband. I didn't know it would feel this way. I didn't know that having a child would be so overwhelming, sometimes in the best way - overwhelming love and care and joy - and other times, overwhelming fear and doubt and OHMYGOD I'm responsible for the emotional, spiritual, and physical well being of another person. It is daunting. And it is forever. I would not change having a baby, not for one second, but I do wish I could find balance.

This Week Can Suck It

This week:

Monday - Fight with best friend.
Friday - Fight with husband.

I am so glad this stupid, stupid week is over. Maybe in hindsight I can figure out why I picked those fights. Or maybe I already know. I have lost my voice (not literally) and it's like something inside me wants to scream at people on a regular basis because I'm not saying things. I am stuffing so much of how I feel and what I think that it is leaking out of me in ways that I can't always control. Last night I was just awful to my husband for no reason, he was trying to have a conversation with me and I was just an asshole. It's like I was just looking for a fight. I'd been irritated with him all day about something that happened earlier and even though we talked about that thing when he got home and on the surface it was resolved and cleared up, maybe it wasn't. Maybe I wasn't done. I am not a brave fighter when it comes to him. I am an asshole and then quickly try to smooth things over and apologize and get scared. When he put his shoes on as if he were leaving I thought I would have a stroke. He was just going to clean out his truck but then later, when I heard the garage door and saw his truck leaving, oh my god, the panic. I called him on his cell phone and made him promise he was coming back. I know it's irrational and I know logically in my head that he's not leaving, but sweet Jesus, something happens and I feel so panicked and insecure and scared. When does that get better? When will that feeling not be so huge? When will we be able to have a fight like normal people and I don't immediately think he's going to leave me? When will that fear go away. Because I am sort of done with it, you know? 

The BFF is going to start working more hours at her other job. She received a promotion and raise and is expected to put in more time, so we will definitely be putting the Wee One in traditional daycare. I have moments where this sounds so awesome to me. He'll get to be around other babies and socialize and do fun things and then, I'll let my mind go to the actual leaving him there part and I want to cry. Leaving him with strangers is frightening to me. I know he will be fine, it's me I'm not so sure about. Oy. I dread that.  

Sometimes I get the whole wife and mother thing wrong. This has been one of those weeks where everything I touch turns to shit. I am just going to keep telling myself that today will be better.

Choices

Being pregnant has forced me to make some choices and in doing so, I’ve hurt people’s feelings. I wish that weren’t true, I wish I could make everyone happy and let everyone have their way and put my own needs and wants on a back burner because clearly other people’s feelings are more important than mine. (Not.) But I can’t do that. At least not anymore. I’ve moved too far forward in my life to revert back to someone who only does what other people want to do because what I want doesn’t count. One thing I do appreciate is that she told me it hurt her feelings, she told me that she didn’t understand why. I would rather have her say it than harbor the resentment. Although, saying it isn’t going to change things so she may harbor resentment anyway and I am completely powerless to do anything about that. I guess where I’m stuck right now is how to tell her I’m sorry that her feelings are hurt without having to defend my choices and lay out all of the reasons I decided to have The BFF and not her there in the birthing room. I don’t want to make it about one being picked over the other. I just want to say I’m sorry your feelings are hurt and then leave it at that. I know she doesn’t understand, I know she feels slighted, and I know she feels like she is entitled because she is The Sister. (Also, it just occurred to me that I’m sure I’ll have to repeat this entire thing with my Mom.) I know she thinks that it’s her place, that it’s her job, that she is the most qualified to be part of the teeny tiny birth team but that isn’t how I feel and I don’t know how to communicate that without causing more damage. I don’t know how to say what I need to say and not make things worse. I don’t want what she hears to sound like a list of all the ways she isn’t adequate, because that isn’t the point. That isn’t what drove the choice. I think The BFF said it best when she said that she [The BFF] has walked me through some pretty painful emotional experiences in the past few years. And she’s right and I think that’s why having her there is important to me. She has walked me through some pain, and I don’t question for one second whether she can do that again, even if she doesn’t know all of the right positions to relieve my physical pain, she knows me well enough to know that if I can get my mind in the right place, my body will follow. She and my husband know me better than pretty much anyone – in very different ways. And they are the two people I want with me. And honestly, if my sister is in the room, then my mom is in the room, and then my step mom and then my dad and oh my god no. No. No. No. I do not want all of those people in the room while I’m giving birth. I just don’t. I am a private person, an island in some ways, and the idea of that just stresses me out and I want to be calm, relaxed and as peaceful as possible during labor. Originally, my husband and I talked about not calling anyone until after the baby was born and home. But I think our parents would have a conniption fit so we ditched that and decided that only immediate family (parents and siblings) would come to the birthing center after he’s born. Everyone else can come to the house the next day or a couple of days later. Our door will be open to visitors who want to ohh and ahhh over the baby. And speaking of my husband, this wasn’t just a choice I made; it’s one I made with him. This is also who he would prefer in the room.
Sigh.
I may make a therapy appointment – and if you’d asked me a few months ago if I would be considering therapy for relationship issues during this pregnancy I would have thought you were nuts. I kind of thought I’d need a therapy session for the eating and food and body image stuff. But no, I think I might need a session to figure out how to have boundaries and keep them firm in the most gentle and loving way possible. I really don’t want to hurt anyone and yet in doing something the way we want, I’m going to hurt people and I guess all I can do is apologize and move on. What else is there to do?

I just wanted to use the word consternation.

Sometimes this job just sucks the joy right out of my day. Even though this day didn’t really start all joyful and shit at least I was in a pleasant mood. I can’t say that right now. Because I feel surly. I also have a headache, which I suspect is a side effect of the stupid diet pills I’m taking, which I probably shouldn’t take because the internet told me they didn’t work for shit. It wouldn’t be the first time in my life I’ve thrown ineffective diet pills in the trash. Man, if I had all the money back I’ve spent on diet pills I would be a MILLIONAIRE! If I think about that too much I will be very sad.

Happier thoughts!

The drive to work this morning was quite awesome. It was snowing! Lots of big, fat, flakes raining down – it was beautiful. Of course, last week it was 60 degrees so that snow wasn’t going to stick to the ground for nothing, but it was so very pretty. It made me want to turn around, go home, curl up on the couch and work on my crochet. I wish I had the poetic vocabulary to describe what it was like driving into the falling snow, but I don’t. (I am not a poet really, although I have tried.) All I can say is that it was lovely and mesmerizing and made me want to get out of my car, tilt my head back and let the flakes fall directly onto my face.

There are two women who sit behind me in my little cubical farm. I wish that they did not. I get a strange vibe from them, like they are eavesdropping and looking over my shoulder and being judgmental about my work ethic. Don’t get me wrong, I work hard. I really do. But there are also times where I am less productive than I could be because I am out of steam or there is too much to do or I am pmsing and obsessively thinking about pretty much anything else but my work. Their conversations are also boring as hell – work!work!work! That is all they talk about. And seriously, I want to eavesdrop on some good shit, not some stupid blah blah blah work related nonsense. I can’t wait until my cubical neighbor comes back from medical leave. This place is dulls-ville without her.

Tonight! Crocheting with The BFF and then! A dip in the hot tub of self help. We have been sporadic with the recovery / not a 12 step but sort of kind of but not really meeting. In fact, I don’t think we’ve met in three weeks, for various reasons, mainly because we are all busy with lives and then there was Thanksgiving. So tonight should be meaty with lots to discuss. I should make a list of things because I actually have a few things I’d like to talk about in a group therapy sort of setting. I really do process everything out loud – much to the consternation of my husband. Well, that’s a lie. I don’t think he really cares that much. I just wanted to use the word consternation. But there are things that are easier for me to process out loud around people who have been in therapy or in recovery. My husband has been in neither, and sometimes I feel like maybe I’m misunderstood. Or I feel like I have to choose my words carefully because the inside my head stuff isn’t always polished or coherent and sometimes me trying to process out loud turns into a conversation about things I never intended. Does this happen to anyone else? Is this a married person thing? I am so inexperienced in the whole relationship arena, sometimes I think maybe I am screwing it up something fierce and other times it feels like a bike ride in the park.

dumping on the internet

Sometimes I get so tired of telling her the same thing over and over and I wonder if maybe I should just stop trying. Or if I need to draw a line in the sand and say: “Look, if you aren’t going to see a therapist, I can’t listen to this anymore.” Is that fair? Is that what a good friend does? I don’t know. The BFF essentially told me to seek help or I was going to kill our friendship. So I did. But I don’t know if that would really work in this situation. Sometimes I don’t mind playing armchair therapist. Shit. I have had a lot of therapy in my life, I can channel the most awesome one I’ve had with a little focus and concentration. There are days, though, that I just don’t have it in me. I just don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to focus on her problems, I don’t want to help her process her emotional baggage, I do not want to hear the same things over and over and try and keep the judgmental tone out of my voice. I have been in similar places emotionally, I really have, but we are very different people and so often I have to adjust my attitude because I’m annoyed and frustrated and tired of having the same conversation over and over. To be fair, there has been forward motion, one of the few requirements I have of close friends. I don’t care what your sickness is, as long as you’re trying and moving forward in some way, even if it’s only an inch at a time, we’re good. So in fairness to her, there is forward motion, but I think today I’m just tired. I have my own issues that I’m trying to get a handle on. I have an informal 12 step/recovery meeting tomorrow and even though it’s with two long time friends, it’s going to be a meeting. One hour. No cross talk. Recovery focused. The reality is I am having such a hard time with food obsession and maybe it is as simple as I’ve taken a drink and now I need to detox again. I really hope that’s the case. I can’t live in this place of want, want, want for much longer. I am afraid I will eventually face plant into a chocolate cake. Maybe it’s the sugar free candy, that I compared to non-alcoholic beer recently, but the problem is I still get to eat candy, I still engage in the behavior, so maybe I need to just cut it all out entirely. Forever. OMGforever. A life without cakes, pies, candies or pastries. Even the sugar free kind. That makes me want to cry a little. But I won’t. Because I’m a work and should be working not dumping my brain out on the internet.

tick, tock, you dont stop

Oh hi! I know, it’s been forever – whatchabeen doin’? Me? Oh, a little this, a little that. Nothing much really, although it’s felt like I’ve been a participant in a very long marathon. Well, more accurately, Mr. Florida has been running a marathon, I’ve been in the pace car (is that even the right term? No, it's not, but I'm not going back to figure out the official term so bite me.) giving him water and sometimes trying to take his place or at the very least trying to run next to him instead of sitting on my ass. Eh. Now I’m bored with this very long metaphor. So what I’m trying to say is that I’ve been trying to help Mr. Florida with a house remodel and let me tell you people, that is HARD. No, seriously. I thought I wanted to help paint baseboards, until I started doing it and then I was all like: Ew. No, this is not fun. But it was too late; I was already doing it and couldn’t very well abandon the job just because it was not fun. I really thought the painting part would be fun, when mostly it was a pain in the ass. I did like going around with my little brush and touching up the walls, that part was oddly satisfying. I tried to help in the ways I could, which means I cleaned things. I just wanted to help him out during the final days because I'm cool like that. And I also missed him because he was working some long ass hours and helping let me squeeze in a couple of extra hours of face time before he collapsed into a coma like sleep.

There have been some semi-serious discussions lately about having children. We're on the fence mostly, there are some pros to opting out – a certain kind of freedom that having children takes away – and there are cons – like the nagging feeling I will look back on my life with some serious regret and the sometimes deafening biological clock that tick tocks inside my brain. I used to hear that ticking sound continuously, not anymore – thank god – because honestly that was painful to ignore – but I still hear it. I always thought I'd have children, then I accepted that I might not – no not accepted – that's the wrong word, it seems like a synonym for "bitter resignation" but that wasn't the case. I just embraced the possibility that I may never, and set out to enjoy my life, the one I had, instead of sitting around wishing for a life I didn't. And now the kid cards are back in play and I ping pong back and forth on whether that's the right choice for us. It's still a long way off, we're going to be married for a while before actually pulling the trigger one way or another, and I realize that by waiting we could be sealing our fate in the No Kids direction, but my priority is the marriage part - what's the point of kids if the marriage foundation is all cracked and shaky? I'm not anticipating a shaky marriage, but you know what I mean, I just want to spend some time being married first. And I reserve the right to change my mind completely about this as the sound of a ticking clock slowly drives me insane.

Ok, you don't know this but some time has elapsed between this sentence and the above paragraph because something just slammed into the window and at first I thought it was a burglar coming to kill me – what? Dramatic? Yes. I am. But after checking the house, I think a stupid bird, or maybe sixty, hit the window in our backyard. All the birds were coming in for breakfast and sometimes they misjudge where the window is as they coming flying around the corner and smash into it and when you're home by yourself, tucked upstairs tip tapping away on the computer, the loud banging on a window downstairs will freak you out. I'm just sayin'.

My train of thought is completely off the tracks. But I need to get moving anyway. We're having The BFF's family over for dinner so I must prepare my home for the invasion! I'm actually so excited about this. A couple of months ago we decided that once a month we'd have dinner together – we'd go to their house one month, the next they'd come to ours – and this is our month to host dinner. I'm so happy we've done this – it's keeping us connected and giving me much needed kid time with those snot nosed kids I love so much it makes my head explode.

paranoid nutcase

This past weekend I had a full on anxiety attack. The kind that results in pleading with The Universe to please, please, please let Mr. Florida be ok. He is, and I'm a paranoid nutcase(duh). But seriously yo, that kind of horrible panic is exhausting. I worked myself up good. And some part of my brain kept trying to tell me  "No, he is not dead in a vacant house somewhere." but the irrational part of me just could not listen to that. I begged The Universe, I checked our bank account (to see if he'd been forced to withdraw our money, at gun/knife point!), I tried to find the license plate numbers for his truck, and eventually made several phone calls - none of them hysterical calls, just  forced breezy  "Hey have you seen Mr. Florida?" kind of calls, but the SECOND I hung up the phone I'd fall the fuck apart. I thought he was dead somewhere and started to fixate on that. Started to play it out. It was not pretty. And you know what? It doesn't matter what I do or how much I worry, some day, he's going to die. So am I for that matter. I have got to get over this fear because it rates high on the ridiculous fears Richter scale. Plus, why worry about impending death when I have a real death, the one of my Grandmother to contend with. I wasn't even going to write about it, but there it is. My Grandmother died. I went to see her on Sunday night, held her hand, told her I loved her and kissed her forehead. Then I left. Because I could not wait around for her to die. Maybe that makes me a coward, I don't know. I felt like one, like I should have been brave and stayed and been there when she took her last breath or something. But I just couldn't do it. Plus, she wasn't really there anymore, not the Grandmother I knew, so I would have just been hanging around, wading through big waves of grief and sadness that belonged to other people.
Oy. Enough. I don't want to talk about that anymore.  

On a lighter note: I cut my hair off yesterday. Ok, not off like you're thinking, but I did go to an actual salon and let someone give me long layers. She said she was going to take off two inches, but it looks more like four or five. Maybe that's just me – it always feels shorter than it actually is. When she whipped out the razor to razor cut my hair, which I guess is the thing to do and every stylist has a hard-on to do it, I put the kibosh on that deal. No way. No razors. One of the reasons I haven't been to a salon in years is because of that damn razor cutting. So even if the person who did it previously did it wrong and this new lady is the World Champion Razor Cutter – I care not. No razors. Then end. And she was nice enough about it, and I thanked her profusely and tried to explain the bad experience but I don't think she really cared, she just went to the business of cutting the old fashioned way. So I gave her a huge tip.