Thursday, July 19, 2012

Dear Dairy,

The Celebration of Gwen went well. Almost everyone on our end of the street came, plus some other friends. I did most of the talking, telling about how we met, what Gwen liked to do, and hopefully a few funny stories. One of neighbors gave me a single red rose. I told the man next door that I called him Mr. Bushida and I'd blown up his house in my writing at least half a dozen times. Thankfully, he thought that was hilarious.

I still have the attention span of a gnat. Got up this morning, made a pot of coffee, and when I came back ten minutes later, I discovered I had made a nice pot of hot water. And after congratulating myself on getting up and making it to Champaign to my doctor appointments with time to spare, they told me I'd missed the first appointment by half an hour.

While I waited to make new appointments, the old man standing behind me in line made a angry face at me. "You think this line is long?" he muttered. "Wait until Obamacare gets here." I shook my head and told him I wasn't getting in any political arguments with strange men in baseball caps. That hasn't stopped my son and for blaming everything on Obamacare, like we ran out of toilet paper and I spilled a bamboo vase. Our pizza could have been warmer at dinner, so we blamed that on Obamacare too. I'll bet that's why my knees hurt so bad. Obamacare!

Forgot to eat again today. The neighbors wanted to organize a "Make sure Melissa eats campaign." I'm not too torn up about losing some weight so I'm not worried. Obamacare!

The UPS man brought a lovely teddy bear from my Net Mom, the woman who watches over me. And it was from FAO Schwartz. Classy.

Today was a wash for getting things done but I do need to do laundry, cleaning, and some purging. There's no big hurry with the purging, I know, but it seems like I'm moving forward a tiny bit.

Thursday is the Grief Group meeting. If it's a room full of people sobbing, I'm outta there. I don't see that being helpful.

I do find myself wondering about souls. Do they exist? Do our loved ones watch over us? That would be cool but I don't want my parents watching me take a dump or do some other things I won't mention. Maybe it's souls that make humans different than African TzeTze flies and Rush Limbaugh.

I'm thinking about the new house a lot. My youngest spawn is now demanding a secret room. Come to think of it, that would be pretty cool. But now he wants a secret tunnel to the next lot. I don't think so.

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