Into The Rabbit Hole

Well, I got through this week.  For this, I am impressed with myself.

I found myself cranky, irritated, and within my head, I was downright mean to people.

Biting my lip in a time of extreme stress is exhausting.

You have to bite your lip, though, because feeling bad is relative.  And when one person feels like they just had a hellacious week, what they experienced may not seem like such a bad experience to the next person.  And vice versa.

Anyway, I suppose the point is that I did it.  I’m done with my classes.  I have this weekend off from the kids, and I will write my two papers.  Hopefully I get them completely done in the next few days.

Tonight I’m not really sure I know what to do with myself.  Part of me wants to escape while the other part knows I can’t celebrate entirely until I complete these papers.  The house is somewhat of a disaster… though I did just do a bunch to clean it up.  It was quite unnerving to have my entire family come over to drop off a bunch of my great grandpa’s furniture… I was fifteen minutes later than I said I’d be, and they had unloaded all of the furniture into the driveway… the same driveway that I had spilled some dog poop on while bringing the trash can to the curb for trash day.  I walked inside to put the dogs out back to discover that the dogs had somehow maneuvered their way into the trash can and had strewn coffee grounds everywhere.  Fabulous.  Then I recall that I cannot let the family see the last couch they gave me, as the dogs have destroyed THAT, too.   Just throw it all into the garage, folks…

Thankfully, my uncle & his buddy will come back tomorrow to move the rest of the furniture.  I think they’ll take away that couch the dogs have destroyed, too.  I’ll put my Pappa’s furniture in the basement, keep the old, destroyed couch cushions on the floor so the dogs have something to sleep on, and cover the new couches with sheets and pillows so the dogs stay off of them.  That way if I ever want to sit on them, I can just pull the sheets off.  Yesh…

I re-potted the plans I “inherited,” one of which I gave my Pappa Luke for his birthday.  It’s a beautiful dracanea… and the other is a pothos; I’m not sure where that one came from.

Shit… I can’t believe he’s gone.   I suppose it’ll all sink in on Monday, when I go through the motions of a funeral.  I suppose funerals are good.  I cry and all those normal things… I like funerals better than bridal showers, I guess.

I’ve noticed feeling terribly surreal lately.  Nothing seems real.   Has Landon really been gone for four weeks?  Today is the beginning of the fifth week.  Almost half way through.  I guess being alone here in our home on a Friday night is real enough.  I feel bad that I don’t really have it in me to love on the dogs.  They’re four weeks without a bath… I’m allergic to them… I don’t know if I can convince Emma to get in the bathtub.

I guess tonight I’m a little blue.  Now that I mention it.  Should I work on my papers, or should I relax some?  Should I read a book?  And if so, where?  Down here in the living room or up in my bedroom?  Should I eat something?  That would mean I have to prepare something.  I just want to skip dinner.  I’ve skipped lots of dinners in the last month.  Too bad it’s not showing in my belly yet.  Or maybe it is…

The fucking neighbor dog won’t shut up.  Rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah.  Yeah, it annoys me, too.

Pink Floyd.  Typing on my blog.  Sitting here.  Pretending nothing is real.  Nothing has to be real.  It could all just be my imagination anyway…

The contrast.  It does something… something good.  It makes the good things extraordinary.  Oh yeah, I like the contrast.  Or maybe I like the pain.  Perhaps I’m a masochist.  Yes.  I’ve always been an emotional masochist.  A proverbial cutter, I enjoy emotional pain.  It reminds me I’m alive.  Or some fucked up thing like that.