December 31, 2007
you want a piece of me, 2007?
Today has been a fucking disaster. No, I guess it hasn't. When I think about Abortionpalooza Weekend I realize that my life can – and has – dropped much further. Still, I've been pretty brave lately, and I feel especially tested. The sequence, for your consideration:
- Clean the house in preparation of a visit with Poppy & the twins. Get a call from Poppy asking for a rain cheque because everyone is sick sick sick. This wasn't so bad: at least I vacuumed my couch.
- Go grocery shopping with Blake during lunchtime. Watch his fuse shorten. Insist that we visit Chapters before going home for lunch. Watch him have a complete sobbing meltdown over a mitten in the parking lot. Drag him to the Chapters, to find that the book is not in stock. Drag him back to the car.
- Bake brownies for Stacy to make up for lack of present yesterday. Yell at Blake for gouging at brownies with knife when I left the room.
- Go skating with Blake and parents at large public park at the centre of the town's New Year's Eve celebrations. Have a good time. (Wait for it.)
- Go for dinner with family friends. Have an excellent time. Realize as I am about to leave that my wallet is gone, probably during skating. It is now full dark.
- Go with my mother's friend to find wallet. Spend an hour discussing my separation. No wallet.
- Go home to find a message from the police: wallet was turned in! Go back downtown to fight crowds and find police officer. No officer.
- Find another cop, who tells me to phone the station.
- Phone station. No wallet. I am told to phone tomorrow.
- Go home. Realize that it's now 10 and I can't drive to Toronto without my licence. Further realize that I will be home alone on New Year's Eve, as Blake is sleeping at Camp Grampa. Think about eating all the brownies. Write journal instead.
So here I am. I figure that if I can live through this night completely alone, cheated & stuck – then I can live through fucking anything.
Bring it ON, 2008.
Labels: angst, family, friends, outings
The contents of this site, unless
otherwise noted, are copyright Rocketbride 1997-2009.
Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*