So hard to write tonight. Tomorrow is a family court date, halfway through the 90 day waiting period of the legal separation, and I just have no idea what to expect. I will be the only one to show up for a separation I never wanted. He literally gets to phone it in from the road. I have to face a bunch of people who expect me to understand the implications of everything, and I really just don't. My stress levels are too high, and my ability to absorb all the changes has dried up. I don't want to go, but not going is just too cowardly. I wish there were something I could do that would allow me to relax and unwind afterwards, but lately nothing, not a soak in the hot tub, not an ice cream binge, not even a fine whiskey appeals to me.
I keep trying to find little things to smile about. They're few and far between. This evening, daughter number two sent pictures of the new dog who lives in the nursing home where she works. This tiny little dog who is roughly the size of Athena is the replacement for naughty Daisy, the old facility dog. Daisy was obese and constantly breaking into the kitchen, when she wasn't fouling the carpet. So far, the reports about new dog's behavior have been good. But my daughter has a problem with her name. They call her Sugar, which she says is all well and good for a nickname, but she needed a much more formal name. Almost as one, my daughter suggested "Glucose" at the moment when I said it should be "Polysaccharide." If that isn't a reason to smile, that eerie synchronicity, then nothing is.
I wonder whether I'll sleep tonight. If the rest of the week is any indication, no, I won't. It'll be like Arlo sang about, when he talked about showing up when his draft number was called. He said he "got good and drunk the night before, so [he] looked and felt [his] very best." I'm sure I'll look like a million bucks tomorrow. Red-eyed, snot-nosed. Bitter, depressed. Yeah, it will be a blast.
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