Who doesn't love a nervous breakdown at four in the morning? There I was, wide awake, whispering an argument with the ceiling fan, about how overwhelmed I am by other people's junk. I can't tell you how many people have said, hey (Mr S-P), can I store this in your garage? It's bad enough that we have our own stuff collected over two lifetimes. We seem to be the repository for everyone who just needs to put things "for a while." It's never just a while. And the lack of space for my own life got to me today. I've been grumpy and depressed and explosive and weepy. I realized that the avalanche of shit is closing in on me so badly that I basically live in a chair. The Sisyphean task of trying to clean a path before the tide of junk refills the space made my brain break, and I'm not quite over it. I can hear my friend's admonishment, "learn the word NO," in my head, but that does me no good when crap just shows up at my property, and I don't know whose it is, nor how to make it leave. This is going to take some time to work through.
I was asked to pick up our girl from school today. When I got there, the teacher said she had been struggling with a tummyache all day, and even fell asleep for a while. She was listless and quiet when I got her, so I let her call the shots. She asked for a snack when we passed a McDonald's, and I set her up with a place to eat and watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. She kept having waves of cramping, so we lay down in front of the big TV instead, and I stroked her back until she calmed and closed her eyes. She wasn't fully asleep, but the pain lessened. Her mommy has been making sure she's okay, and it sounds like she is on the mend. I was actually glad to hear she barfed, so anything that was irritating her is out now. Let's hope this is the end of the upset.
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