COMING SOON!

I am going to take some after pictures tonight, if I can remember. Otherwise I will do it tomorrow. All the things are done. ALL THE THINGS. As of this morning. Well, except I am going to refinish the coffee table I found. It was only $7, I figured for that price it was worth a little work. And Tuesday I will have TV.

Also, my dad and his girlfriend were in town this weekend. His girlfriend is my mom's former best friend, and my mom does not know they are dating.

Also also, my mom was supposed to come out here tomorrow with a friend of hers to go skiing, then she emailed me to "let me know" that she wasn't bringing her friend, and was instead going to stay at our house Tuesday through Saturday. Shockingly, I was able to tell her that wasn't OK, and we are now scheduled to meet in Boise on Friday for a couple of days. Don't worry, I will be back in time for the Packers game. So this means I get a couple-day reprieve between parental visits, which is...awesome. And I kind of stood up for myself with my mom. It almost made me vomit to tell her that it was not OK for her to invite herself to stay at my house for a week, but I DID IT GODDAMN IT.

I think I was only able to do it because I am so frazzled and on edge that I honestly could not handle the thought of her being in my home right now. Plus I am nursing a hangover on two hours' sleep. It added a sense of urgency.

Anyway, sorry for the boring post, but I PROMISE YOU WILL HAVE PICTURES SOON! AND MAYBE GRAPHS! LOOK, I WILL SPICE THIS UP RIGHT NOW WITH AN IMPROMPTU POEM!

The days are colliding and smearing
And so far the things that we're fearing
Have all come to pass,
Like ice in a glass,
Cold, smoking, and burned.

Hm. That was kind of depressing. Sorry.

The Thing Is, Sometimes I Ramble.

So I am just blowing off steam here right now. I have a guy in my house fixing my floor. And by house I mean apartment.

Yes, I am officially entirely moved over. And all the things-- well, most of the things, are in working order. There are appliances and a shower and everything. Electricity, even. My new TV will be hooked up on Tuesday. My couch and chair are perfect and I love them. The shelving I designed turned out absolutely perfect. The color of the walls is the best color EVAR. The floors are beautiful. The gas range has a burner that is LITERALLY MEANT TO MAKE GRAVY. Well, maybe not literally. Literally it is a burner for using a griddle top. BUT! BUT! You can put your entire roaster pan on it and it is PERFECT.

And yet.

And yet.

I cannot sleep. I am depressed and zombieish. I have problems maintaining any sort of positive outlook on anything. I think I may be addicted to an online game. I am scattered and sad and I have no idea what I am doing from one moment to the next. Everything sucks, everything is awful, and I feel like I am just malingering, and I need to get over it, or move on, or do something-- but I don't even know what I am supposed to do. Or how I am supposed to act. Or what is even going on. Like, what are we doing?

Does he honestly think this is a functional relationship, him living there and me living here? Does he think I am supposed to just be fine with this, like things are fine? Because they are not. Things suck, and I am chronically lonely, and I know that I take my self-worth from others, because I have not yet learned, after all of this time, to see that I am worth something on my own, without someone there to tell me that. And there is no one here, and when there is no one here, all I want is anyone to love me. And I know that is fucked up and stupid, and I should be able to learn to just be with myself and my thoughts or whatever, but MY THOUGHTS SUCK RIGHT NOW AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE A BATHTUB TO DROWN IN. Or drown my sorrows in. Look at me, ending sentences with prepositions! WOO HOO IT'S GETTIN' WILD IN HERE.

My point being that I do not even know if I want to be in this relationship, because I feel like I am a contortionist these days, trying to fit into what I need to be. I just want a break.

The only thing I am doing correctly right now is not drinking myself into a stupor. But that might just be because I lack the motivation to buy alcohol. I guess also I am still standing. But just barely.

GOD I AM SO PATHETIC.

I will probably delete this later. Or now.

Fuck me.

2011/2012

I posted this elsewhere, but would like it to reside here.

My 2011 was weird and not very great.

On the plus side, I stopped drinking like an alcoholic, and started drinking like a normal person. My team won the Superbowl last year, and looks like they're headed there again this year. I gained and lost 20 pounds. I started my happy blog, which has been sadly neglected for a while, but will be up again soon. I got to meet some online friends. I took over the operation of my business, and while we aren't exactly up this year, we aren't down, either, which is good news. Perhaps most significantly, I found and strengthened some friendships, especially here at this internet place, but also in my day-to-day life. It has always been hard for me to... I don't know, open up to people. So that is a big thing.

On the downside, a few close friends and relatives of mine died suddenly this year. One of my close friends was diagnosed with cancer and began chemo. I had some major changes in my personal life-- a lot of upheaval and sadness, which is kind of carrying over to this year, although it is slightly muted by the progression of time.

On the I-don't-know-how-to-feel-about-it side, which would be the middle side, I have begun steps toward recovery from problems I have carried with me for a long time. I am trying to be a person again.

I am hoping that 2012 will be drastically different from this year. I am very confused and lost in my life right now, and I am hoping that time will straighten out some of the kinks. I want this year to be the year where I am myself, and I am okay with that.

We will see.

Moving Day

Guys.

I know I haven't been around lately.

I have been busy. Working. Planning. Holidays. Staying alive (Oh, oh, oh, oh, stayin' aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive).

Today, though, I am moving. Moving in. To my new apartment.

I am going to take some after photos, I'm hoping to get them done before I move stuff in, but the sink and shower may not be finished before I start hauling boxes over and cluttering the place up.

I did do a really good job on the remodel, I gotta hand it to myself. And by "good job" I mean my ideas, not really the work, since all I did with my hands was paint. But still. I bought all the shit, I made every decision, I designed shelving, I coordinated colors. I DID IT, YO.

And today, all of my stuff-- my clothes, the kitchen stuff, the bathroom stuff, my books, my photos, my NEW COUCH AND CHAIR OMG, and my bed-- all of it will be moved over. If I am super-productive and maybe have a little bit of luck.

So send a good wish or two my way, think of me, etc., and I will be back, here, very soon.

Daily Om: The Message of Pain

So one of my dear friends (whom I will attribute/link if she so wishes) posted this recently, and it was something I needed to hear. Via the Daily Om.



Both emotional and physical pain are messages that we need to stop and pay attention.

When we feel pain, our first impulse is often to eradicate it with medication. This is an understandable response, but sometimes in our hurry to get rid of pain, we forget that it is the body's way of letting us know that it needs our attention. A headache can inform us that we're hungry or stressed just as a sore throat might be telling us that we need to rest our voice. If we override these messages instead of respond to them, we risk worsening our condition. In addition, we create a feeling of disconnectedness between our minds and our bodies.

Physical pain is not the only kind of pain that lets us know our attention is needed. Emotional pain provides us with valuable information about the state of our psyche, letting us know that we have been affected by something and that we would do well to focus our awareness inward. Just as we tend to a cut on our arm by cleaning and bandaging it, we treat a broken heart by surrounding ourselves with love and support. In both cases, if we listen to our pain we will know what to do to heal ourselves. It's natural to want to resist pain, but once we understand that it is here to give us valuable information, we can relax a bit more, and take a moment to listen before we reach for medication. Sometimes this is enough to noticeably reduce the pain, because its message has been heard. Perhaps we seek to medicate pain because we fear that if we don't, it will never go away. It can be empowering to realize that, at least some of the time, it is just a matter of listening and responding.

The next time you feel pain, either physical or emotional, you might want to try listening to your own intuition about how to relieve your pain. Maybe taking a few deep breaths will put an end to that headache. Perhaps writing in your journal about hurt feelings will ease your heart. Ultimately, the message of pain is all about healing.

Doing All the Things

So I should be moved over to the apartment in... well, I'm going to say by December 20th. Right in time for Christmas... yay? The floors will be done on Wednesday, the appliances in late next week, and... then I just have to move my bed and clothes and stuff. So it will be... almost two months exactly since the bomb dropped.

Even though I'm so close, though, for some inexplicable reason, little things are starting to turn into IMPOSSIBLE SITUATIONS. Like, my friend who is a plumber cannot come plumb the line for the gas to the stove until late next week. BUT I WANT TO MOVE NOW. And now that I asked him to do it, and he came to check it out, I feel like I would rather just hire someone to do it and not have to wait. It is worth whatever I have to spend to get out of here. But I also feel bad because he has legit reasons for not doing it IMMEDIATELY TODAY, and that also made me feel guilty, like I am taking advantage of him or something UGH.

I just want it DONE. I don't want to be in limbo. And I know, I have zero furniture. Zero idea of what I am doing. Zero ability to envision the future. But I just want it DONE. So I can start trying to put myself together. Because every time I try to do that now, something happens to tear everything apart again. To make me feel like an interloper in my own life. Like I shouldn't have any hope. Like nothing will ever be OK again.

UGH.

Maybe I am just being overdramatic because I was sick today and feel like complaining and BLAH. And I read some of my therapy book and OF COURSE I feel like throwing puppies to sharks now. *sigh*

This cheerful note brought to you today by GLOOM AND DOOM.

Sorry, Charlie

Yeah, I deleted that post. The one that showed up in all of your readers and you can't access. Well, I "unpublished" it. Almost the same thing. Anyway, I did it because I was overtired/overemotional/over...drunk? maybe. But it was just a pathetic rant, the kind that you need to let out but you don't really need to let out in the open.

Things are still shitty. But I am going to be OK. Right? I mean, I am, she said, with finality and conviction.

One of my friends is a contractor, and he's charging me only an arm to put in all the flooring, not an arm and a leg. They started today. I got most of the painting done already. The appliances are going to be delivered Sunday.

Except I forgot to get a shower. Whoops. And I keep putting it off, every day I think of it. For no apparent reason. I am sure Guinny understands the whole not-understanding-this-ness of that.

I had to come back early because the wood for the floors came in to the store, and I had to get it into the apartment ASAP for it to "season" or acclimate or some shit. Anyway, it cut my weekend of me time short. I might end up doing it again next weekend; it kind of depends on how this week goes.

I am thankful for all of my friends. Without you, I would not be getting through this. With you, I am surviving.

P.S. Thinking about getting this couch. What say you, friends? I thought I'd ask you since I'm basically picking out a bed for you.

Day One, Part One

Look at me! I took a shower, I am wearing real pants (not pajamas), and I am in a coffeeshop, AKA the Real World. I'm not bawling like a baby in a dark corner somewhere! Also, I am eating the fattiest scone ever conceived by the mind of man and drinking a Monkeytail, which is a 4-shot Mexican mocha.

Look!

SO EFFING GOOD

This is the place I used to go all the time when I was alone in Boise with Charlie, back when he was a tiny little infant. Six months of solitude, that was. Hard.

Anyway. Coming back to Boise is strange. Like I said, I thought that the time I was here without Dust was more like two months until we talked about it a few weeks ago. It was a hazy time. Coming back did give me that familiar feeling of "Me Against the World," though. Which... well, I mean I guess it's better than "Everyone Against Me." Or "Overwhelmed and Unable to Cope."

SIGH THIS IS GETTING ME NOWHERE.

Anyway, I am going to finish this shit, or at least try to eat some of it, and then go walk around stores for a little bit, until I can be alone with my thoughts again.

Runaway Train

 Tonight, at about 8:00PM, I ran away from home.

I just couldn't do it anymore. I needed a break. I need a break. I can't deal with all of this, all at once, relentlessly. I needed to breath. And I have seen that my emotional fragility is catching my kid's attention, and it is not good for him. He does not need to be breathing the sorrow in through his tiny little lungs.

So I knew I had to be gone. I have had to be gone for a long time now. But I didn't know where to go. I don't have family I can trust, no friends nearby, no options. I finally broke down and called a long-distance friend, who talked me out of going to my mother (out of the frying pan and into the fire, as it were). Then I called a friend who lives in Boise (which is a few hours away), to ask him if he had any ideas. He was all, "What about your condo?"

I totally forgot about that. We have a condo in Boise that is currently unoccupied. This would mean I could have alone time, rest time, no-thinking time, and I could see my friend when I started thinking and worrying and freaking out and needed someone to talk me down from the ledge.

So I called hubby, told him I was leaving, packed a bag and waited for him to come home so I could take him to his mom's car (she's out of town so he can use it), said goodbye to the best kid in the world, and left. The whole thing took about 30 minutes from inspiration to execution.

My return date is supposed to be before Monday at 10:00AM. Because I have to work then.

I didn't take the kid because I love him too much to subject him to myself right now. I can barely take care of myself. I feel like an infant who needs a mother. I love him too much to not choose what is right for him-- which, in this case, is staying with his functional parent for the weekend while the broken one tries to tape herself together with wine and solitude.

Things I packed:
Kindle
Laptop
Phone
Shampoo and conditioner
Four bottles of wine
Wine key
Fuzzy sweater
Four pairs of pajama pants
Two pairs of jeans
Toothbrush
Soap
Toilet Paper
Towel
Two coconut waters
Two Red Bulls
Air mattress
Two pillows
One blanket

Things I wish I packed:
A cup
An ipod
A utensil for eating
The case of coconut water I set out to take and forgot

Things I probably didn't need to pack but did anyway:
Bikini
Four clubbing shirts
Clay Matthews jersey
Transformers t-shirt
Two fizzy bath tablets
One bottle of Rombauer Chard
One bottle of La Crema Pinot Noir
Cambozola cheese

And for the record, I was totally fine until I got about three blocks from downtown, at which point I saw all the Christmas decorations and started bawling so hard I couldn't see and became a hazard to myself and others with the blurring of the vision and the driving being mixed.

P.S. Thank you all for your comments and support. The situation is more complicated than my wildly truncated version, but I gave you the salient points from my side. Hubby does not need his balls run over by a train. We have both been unhappy and resentful about a number of things in our marriage, and some sort of crisis was bound to occur. He does need to be happy, and so do I, but I would prefer for him to be happy with me rather than some common whore.

Crap. I did it again. *sigh* It is hard for me to see around her. And not just because her ass is the size of Asia.

CRAP! AGAIN!

You know what? Fuck it. DAMN HER TO HELL.

There may be a slight delay...

TWELVE DAYS????!?!???!?

I mean, I knew it had been a while, but... well, I'm not gonna lie to you, I thought it was longer than twelve days ago. It feels like aeons, although I don't remember those last two posts, so that should say something.

Bottom line, I have been in the death throes of relationship woes for the last...well, more than a month. And I'm trying to remodel the shithole of an apartment we have over our garage in double time for the last... two weeks? Maybe slightly less? More? Time has no meaning.

Anyway, I am moving out. And thus begins a new chapter. ? I feel like all of my statements should be followed by question marks. Nothing seems certain and everything seems like some mix of nightmare and inevitability.

I guess it was high time I disclosed it. Since all of my friends know. But none of my family. Should I keep it under wraps, this possible dissolution (which hubby insists is just a need for space and time while he sees someone else) of my 12-year relationship (initally I put "marriage", but we weren't married the WHOLE time), or should I just milk it for all it is worth before Christmas and ask for TJ Maxx gift cards to furnish the place?

I am completely lost and hidden in the darkness right now. I was going to wait until my triumphant move into a gorgeous new apartment, but doing all of the gruntwork myself is not only disheartening, in the same way that constructing one's own coffin holds the promise of very outweighed rewards, but also time-consuming and KILLING ME. I know there is improper agreement somewhere there, but I do not care. I do not care about GRAMMAR. This is serious.

Fuck me.

This is How He Describes "Emo", Bitches

Why do you do it, I say.

Sometimes, he says,
I am opening vents in my skin
Skin too swollen
With the pressure of agony
With the inner points of nails and knives
Skin that needs release
Exposure and purgation
Digging out the offending intangibles
Scraping them off,
Away

Sometimes, he says,
I cannot do
Cannot be
Cannot
Cannot
But feeling that pain, I can handle.
Cleaning with alcohol, I can do.
It is easier
To transfer the pain to my body
Where I am strong,
Where I can deal with pain,
No problem.

Sometimes, he says,
I need to validate my heart
Visible signs of an invisible hurt
That I know is truth
That I cannot say with words
Because words are insufficient
And impermanent
And I need to draw it
In red lines
That say a thousand words
Eloquently malingering
I need to say my hurt.

Sometimes, he says,
I deserve it.

He stops, and I let it fall like snow.

But all of these reasons only exist
In that single moment, he says.
All of the other moments are spent
Trying to cover up the shame
Feeling stupid and weak
Hiding under turtlenecks and jeans
Terrified that someone will see
Will question
Will suspect

That I am not strong enough to cope
That there is something wrong
That they will want to help
That they will feel I need help
That they will pass judgment
That I will be lacking
That I will see pity in their eyes
When they look at me.

And I know it is wrong, he says.
I know I shouldn't do it
I know it is the wrong choice,
The wrong way,
The wrong thing to do.
I know it better after I do it.

But in that moment
In every one of the that moments:
It is the only thing.
I do not know anything else.
It is what I do.
It is how I survive.

More Reasons Not to Sleep Ever Again

Lana Charli, mere moments after birth

So we flew in Friday night, after about 2 weeks of no more than 4 hours sleep a night. We were up until Saturday morning around 6AM, which was 25 hours for me and 27 for Dust. After four hours of sleep, back to the hospital. It was the weekend of even less sleep than I thought possible.

Lana was born Saturday morning via C-section, and was in the NICU for the first 36 hours or so of her life for observation, since her mom is a Type 1 Diabetic and the baby's blood sugars were slightly wonky. If it had been my kid, I would not have settled for anything less than having my baby in my arms immediately, since there was no reason for the ICU except vague and dismissive mentions of "observation."

But it wasn't my kid, and you can't tell someone else how to do it. I just felt so bad for that tiny little baby, hooked up to IVs, no comforting arms in sight. She was all alone on that little table for almost two days. Then they were all, "OK, looks like everything's fine, guess you can take her." So... thanks for nothing, stupidheads. I am glad you covered your ass with the malpractice shit, and made that baby sit in there alone for the first days of her life.

Anyway. It was quite the whirlwind weekend. We're back now, and I'm back to work, and I JUST PICKED UP MY COMPUTER FROM THE SHOP OMG FLAIL and once I install some updates on it I should have it to hold and pet and love forever.

I made Dust pose for this in the airport. His eyes are crazed but I couldn't take another one because the security guard got all pissy about us being inside the ropes or something. The crazed eyes add authenticity.

So today is going to be all about catching up at work, cleaning the house, reading chapter two already (I am not TRYING to put it off, I have just been too tired to read), and then looking for appliances and flooring online.

Me: Gettin' shit done since 1981.

Nurture Sounds Like a Dirty Word

So like I said, I am doing a 12-Step recovery program, and the first step is to learn how to NURTURE yourself and ACCEPT NURTURING from others. Number one, I do not like the way the word "nurture" sounds. Something about it skeeves me. So I am using "TREAT". TREAT YOURSELF! ACCEPT TREATS FROM OTHERS! It is roughly the same.

Anyway, what I was trying to say is that it is difficult. I have lived most of my life caring for everyone but myself. I am literally a victim of self-neglect. I mean, I take showers and dress weather-appropriately, but that is about all of the care I give myself. Apparently this is neither normal nor healthy, and partially as a result of this, I have developed some severe relationship problems in my life.

So I am trying my DAMNDEST to show myself a little love and accept love from others. It is surprisingly difficult. This has attuned me to the fact that I flinch away from touching (even a pat on the back), that I don't accept ANY compliments without qualifying them, that I don't give myself a break EVER... it is strange. It is like suddenly waking up and not knowing who you are. Also, even though I know that this is what I am supposed to be doing, that I am supposed to be focusing on myself and doing things for me and letting other people do things for me, I have literally lived my entire life doing the opposite, and changing it up like this? Not easy.

That said, I did say "I love you, too," the other day, instead of "I love you," which is how I usually respond to someone telling me they love me. Because it is a way of saying I love you without acknowledging that they love me. HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT. WHAT THE HELL. Also, I took a hot shower instead of sweeping the patio, which didn't really need to be swept, but which I was going to do instead of taking a shower, even though I was freezing and just needed to relax. So I consider these two things to be SUPERVICTORIES, and I am treating them as such. Teehee. Treat.

Anyway, here's hoping that this is the beginning of a BOLD A BEAUTIFUL new chapter in my life. As bold as THIS!

Why did I use ugly colors?

But maybe more beautiful. Maybe more like this.

View from my roof.

GO FORTH AND TREAT YOURSELF! ACCEPT TREATS FROM OTHERS!* LIVE A BOLD AND BEAUTIFUL LIFE!

*Not strangers, though.

Semi-Automatic Bullet List

• I have had roughly four hours of sleep on average per night for the last week
• I have lost ten pounds in the same week, even though I stopped exercising because my muscles weren't healing due to lack of sleep
• Both of these things are stress related, although I am not sad about losing weight
• This ice cream looks delicious
• I am supposed to get my computer back today YAAAAAY
• I got these in the mail (Birthday/Christmas present for hubby) literally 20 minutes ago; I think he will have them before dinnertime even though his birthday is December 1 and Christmas is almost two months away
• I am impatient, generally
• I need to buy myself a cup of coffee. FOR REAL
• I need to get a hair cut
• Change is scary.
• Tired.
• So.
• Tired.
• If I get my computer back, I will give you a WHAMBANG post, with no annoying bullets
• I started a twelve-step recovery program a few days ago. 
• I am still on step one. 
• I like to think that I already accomplished step zero, which was acknowledging a problem and starting to fix it, as that means I have ONE DOWN!!
• Thank the Lord Jesus that it is not for alcohol, because I am not ready for that at all
• Life is hard

TMI

OK, so here is the deal. I have had cramps that feel like fucking labor contractions for the past THREE WEEKS. And I didn't know what it could be, but I suspected possibly a hernia (because I've been lifting weights and pulled something not too long ago) or an ectopic pregnancy. Because my mind immediately goes to the worst case scenario. And although I never go to the doctor, last week I caved and scheduled an appointment.

Then the pain started getting worse, to the point that I wanted to stab my ladyparts and carve out my uterus with a sawsall. Or, conversely, if it was a hernia, wanted to rip out my intestines and beat the everliving fuck out of them. So the pain, combined with my overactive imagination and general stress, gave me so much anxiety that I couldn't sleep. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and just lie there, thinking about all of the things I wanted to do before I died. Feeling my abdomen to make sure my intestines hadn't hardened up and died. Weighing the benefits of going to the ER vs. the cost of going to the ER.

So after too many sleepless nights, too much pain, and lying awake until 8AM when the walk-in clinic opened, I went to the doctor the day before my scheduled appointment. Victory: me, because I paid $160 at the clinic instead of $630 at the ER. I do feel good about that.

Unfortunately, the doc told me I have an ovarian cyst. There are NONE OF THE THINGS to do about it except possible surgery, unless I can get the motherfucker to go away before Monday. You best be believin' I'm doing everything short of literally punching myself in the ovaries to avoid surgery. Actually, I totally did punch myself in the ovaries. Because I am simultaneously that hardcore and frightened like a child that I may have to go under the knife.

I am going to make this motherfucker go away. One way or another.

Unexpected Email from My Dad that Made My Day, in Its Entirety

There was something I forgot to say to you as I am thinking about you now. I want to thank you for all the wonderful, caring and loving memories you gave me as you grew up before my eyes- I love to think about you- you are still my favorite thing to think about- and what a tapestry of richness it is- from you dancing with the puppy dog at our first place in Moline to your ice show, your love of playing 'can you go up,up,up' with me, your laugh, your never tiring interest in books of any kind- your hugs, your smiles, the sound of your voice, just being able to open the door and look at you as you slept- looking like an angel or a princess- and what a feeling of happiness and peace and love it gave me.

Hyndman's Peak

Taken yesterday out East Fork

Look! There's a place for sale. We could be neighbors.

Autocorrect, DIAFGFA.

Since I am sans computer for the last few and the next few days, or at least until HP ships me my recovery disks, because God forbid they actually include them with the purchase of my laptop, I have been using my phone to keep from falling back into the pre-information age, or the preformed age, as I am wont to call it just now. Also, I have picked up an affinity for run-ons and a dangerous carelessness with verb tense and mood.

My point being, and do you know I hate it when people use that construction? Usually because they often follow it up with the word "is", and nothing bothers me more than a repeated being verb with the possible exception of never knowing on which side of the quotations punctuation should fall.

Anyway, my point is, is that I have been using my phone for ALL THE THINGS. And you know what this experience has taught me, even more than "Don't leave your computer laying around where the kid can manhandle it and delete important system files?"?

It has taught me that I hate autocorrect. HATE. ABHOR. WISH DEATH UPON. DESIRE THE DEMISE OF. It is basically the absolute worst thing, ever. I hate its smug attitude. Its predisposition to replace sense with nonsense. Its maniacal bent toward making me appear illiterate and undereducated. When I type "She lets us go over there if it's nice," I do not want autocorrect to hijack me and instead say, "Should let's go overall there's if its Nick." Not only does this not make sense, it also creates the necessity of deciding between deleting ALL THE THINGS or trying to wade through the whole morass, one errant screen swipe at a time, editing and deleting, because most of the letters are already there, and let's be honest, if you delete and fix it you'll be back at square one with "Show letter use to overnight The if itself Nicole."

Also? Using a phone increases my paranoia that I will lose any note of length by about a bajillionty fold. You know why? Becquerel (What the ever living fuck? I mean, for real. Under no circumstances is that a word.)-- BECAUSE, my phone just shuts down the web browser at indeterminate junctures, losing all information and sending my teeth into fits of gnashing and my robes into fits of rending.

So I'd better sign off, but not before telling autocorrect that I hope it Dies in a Freak Gasoline Fight Accident.

Shit Outta Luck

The kid broke my computer. He deleted some sort of essential file, so it won't even open.

So until I get the recovery disks and spend some time running installations, WE ARE S.O.L., LADIES AND GENTS. S.O.L.

Also, all of my pictures are GONE.

Posted from my POS Android

A Flood of Happiness. OR SOMETHING ELSE.

Sorry there wasn't anything here yesterday, and I kind of dropped the ball on proclaiming a winner of the Name That Tune (CONGRATS ANDY!)-- but I HAD A FUCKER OF A DAY, ladies and gents. A fucker of a day.

First, all heck broke loose at work. Then, I overdid my exercise and could barely move. THEN I got into a... well, hubby and I don't really fight, or argue, but we have disagreements. Which, I think, is harder to deal with than screaming. So we had a disagreement and I ended up walking home in the rain. And THEN, instead of being Mopey McMoperson I decided to clean out my entire closet. And mop the floors. And clean the bathrooms. And pick up the kid's room, which is when I noticed that the carpet in his room (located in the basement) was wet.

Yep. Flooded.

THANK YOU, UNIVERSE, FOR SHITTING ON MY HEART.

So I had to rip up the carpet and pad, try to wring out as much water as I could, and set the fans in there. I think we have to get a new pad, but we can save the carpet. Unfortunately, though, the water is still seeping up from the concrete and in through the walls-- and it's supposed to rain again today.

Accidentally taken while trying to call the landscape company this morning

All this because we had the gutters replaced SO THE BASEMENT WOULDN'T FLOOD, and they didn't finish them yesterday so we didn't call the landscape company to dig out the drainage plumbing since they WEREN'T EVEN FUCKING DONE YET.

DAMN IT. So now we have $1700 for new gutters, $1000 for the plumbed pipes, and $300 for a new pad downstairs ANYWAY, even though we spent $2700 to AVOID THAT FUCKING THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Well, and the undermining of the foundation of our house and black mold. BUT STILL.

Yesterday can go FUCK ITSELF WITH A RUSTY SNOW SHOVEL, which is the only implement I had to dig the pipe area up yesterday in a vain attempt to divert the water further from the house.

Today, you are preemptively ON NOTICE.