I'm a mess. Not as much of a mess as I was Friday night at 8, but still a mess.
I spent the weekend sleeping and reading. I needed it, too. Out of nowhere, I got a wicked muscle cramp in my right shoulder. And my hip was hurting. This morning, I'm feeling much better physically. Emotionally, not so much.
Probably not the wisest move for someone who doesn't get paid if she doesn't work, but I'm taking off today. I feel better and I've got some things I have to get done before I go back to work.
Subconsciously, I'm still looking for Katy. Even though my rational mind talks me out of it, I have moments where I blame myself for her death. My rational mind acknowledges that some of my actions may have been imprudent where her last moments are concerned, but then tells me the girl would likely have died within the week. I am deeply sorry that her last minutes were full of pain and panic.
A few minutes ago, I looked right at Sophie and I said, "Katy, what - " And a few minutes before that, I looked right at Blue and called him Butchy.
I'm doing the roll call, too, until I get to the right name.
I have a lot to do. I have bills to pay. I have no idea how I'm going to pay them. I have a few savings bonds left. I have about $100 in the change jar. Considering how much I've paid for health insurance and how little I've gotten from it, I am thinking seriously of canceling it.
One thing I'm going to do today is go to the knitting club. They sent me a birthday card! (And thank you to those of you who did. The others, we'll talk at the party in October.) I think going there will be just about effective as going to therapy.
I know I've talked a lot about only eating and drinking things I've brought from home, not buying lunch at the company cafeteria, but now it's reality.
Yes, I may be a little depressed. (Why the hell would I be depressed?) But I found myself thinking yesterday that the harder I try, the fiercer the shit storm. I'm tired. This doesn't mean I'll stop trying, but I won't be so surprised when the poo hits the windows.
Oh. And if Under the Dome turns about to be about freaky aliens, I will be beyond pissed and I will burn the book on the patio in my back yard.
1 comment:
I went looking for my copy of Under the Dome. I don't remember where the dome came from, but I do remember that the story started out so good and then I got very annoyed with it, but couldn't remember why.
I couldn't find the book. It *might* account for that scorched spot in the back yard.
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