I ran out of episodes of Girls to watch so decided it was time to crawl into Buck’s bed where in a few hours I’ll get woken up by two hungry dogs. I can’t wait to take another luxurious shower tomorrow with the music playing, dancing and singing while I wash my hair with very expensive shampoo.

I’ve picked up a nanny job again once a week for three hours. Since ignite doesn’t want me I need some kind of income even if it just pays for gas. Then there’s the tutoring gig. There are still jobs out there, I’ll find a real one eventually.

I’m going through withdrawal without the tears tonight. It’s hard waking up knowing you’re not going to get a smiling good morning text, even if it’s just small talk thereafter while he’s working. Ah there come the tears. I feel like I’m doing it all wrong. When people have kids they say they feel like they’re doing it all wrong because there’s no manual for parenting. I feel those same emotions right now.

I want to get on the book writing train but I’m so impatient about the whole process. I get a writers high just publishing a blog post because of the instant gratification. I’m turning into the coffee and cigarettes artistic writer with red lipstick and a pessimistic attitude but that kind of writer also cuts the bullshit out and gets down to business. I can see myself on that diet too. I probably would have ignored eating today entirely if it weren’t for David who wanted to get dinner.

The mentally challenged dog I’m looking after was just trying to tip over a garbage can in the bathroom. I jolted up to see what she was destroying THIS time. Minutes before she was barking at the other dog for laying on the couch. Can’t she just go to sleep?

Tomorrow I get my ADD drugs. They use stimulants to treat that crap so I’m hoping to feel a little high and very focused when I start them. Maybe then reading and writing will be easier…reading. we were supposed to finish more books together. I’ll miss our book club. I miss everything and I regret that I’ll be missing out on even more now. I can only hope this “thing” is over when he comes home.

One can always hope.



3 thoughts on “Crooked

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