I called Human Resources Development Canada this morning (a.k.a. the government office that administers the aforementioned Employment Insurance). The very nice lady who spoke to me made my day when I explained the situation and she told me that I wasn't stupid, "it happens all the time." I asked if I could record that to play back for my mother and she just laughed. Some other staffers should be contacting me within the next two days to clarify the situation, so if all goes well I should have some positive news by the end of the week.

This has done nothing to alleviate the atmosphere at home, which has gone from bad to worse. My mother is at the forefront of the hatestorm, and while there is some teenage part of me that wants to get it all down here, to obsessively detail her actions and my anger so that people can sympathize and make me feel justified, what would that solve?

The one thing I can say with certainty is that the day the Boy gets a real job, much of the barely suppressed anger will dissipate. And by real, I mean a job with a paycheque rather than a grand vision. Hey, there's some of that anger in me too. What do you know about that.

Tonight the Boy called me into the room during bedtime stories. "Take a look at this!" I was sceptical. Was it worth getting off the couch?

Blake sat solemnly on his father's lap. The Boy opened The Going to Bed Book to the last page. "Point to the moon, Blake. Where's the moon?" Blake scanned the page, considering the matter. Then, with authority, he pointed to the crescent moon.

I was thrilled. I pulled out Goodnight Moon and asked the same question. But GM has a full moon on the cover...so Blake thought hard and pointed to the word "moon."

I smell genius.

"You have a lot on your plate right now."

"That's okay. It's a big plate."

- stacy & I attempt to console each other

- 0 comments/hedgehogs -

- Rocketbride's adventure of 11/15/2004 10:24:00 p.m.