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12:31 p.m. - 2011-11-02
(No Title)

I'm a hapless passenger on this train wreck. Being a reactive rather than a pro-active sort 99% of the stuff that goes wrong in my life is NOT my doing. If I were a heedless selfish asshole barging around inflicting my wishes and will on everyone and being careless of others' safety (physical or emotional) and behaving badly then I'd be a bit more reconciled to all this mess and fuckery. Brought it on my own head, you know? If I were haughty and critical and deliberately cruel it'd be one thing, but my life's guiding philosophy is a combo of the Hippocratic Oath and the Golden Rule- do no harm and give out what I'd like to get back. Amazing, really, how little this actually works. I mean, I keep up my end okay, but so far it hasn't meant I've been showered with good stuff in return.

In any case, my house has electricity and internet service again. Wolf is at school, as is Mick. So was I this morning. An IEP meeting at the high school at the ungodly hour of 8:30am. The meeting went okay and was reasonably productive, but still...8:30? I'm up most mornings before it's light, doesn't mean I'm dying to get all cleaned up and dressed and dragging my sorry self across town at that hour. Bums have rights too. The foremost being me not needing to put on a goddamn bra before I'm jolly well ready to.

I know, I know, poor LA. But my desktop is still fried, the mothering and wife-ing stuff has been insanely intense recently, and I had no electricity from Saturday until late afternoon Monday. It was cold, ugly, and frustrating. At least my near constant hot flashes meant I got hugged a lot. The guys happily snugged up on me like I was a Franklin stove. I was the warmest thing in a 20 mile radius.

Sorry to come back after all this time with a mouthful of complaints. My coping skills aren't able to keep up with the demand. If it were just me and my famously documented and ferociously mocked over-sensitivity at the helm, okay, but it's not. There's been a slew of real problems, real breakdowns, real calamities. Crisis after wrong things after deliberate hatefulness after good intentions toddled down the road to Hell after financial problems after broken appliances and cars and electronics after schoolwork nonsense from my slacker kid after... (litany of disaster ad nauseum).

Enough already. Except for my fiercest detractors (who admit nothing good about me EVER) it's been said many times how fun it is to watch me bounce back up again. An oversized Bop-It Bozo who takes hit after hit and pops back up just in time for another smack in the bazoo.


Bop-It Bozo is tired. Exhausted. I'm just going to lie here, thanks. Getting back up just means another punchdown and I simply don't have the go juice to do it anymore.

If you need me (please don't) I'll be here under my desk in a fetal position. 48 years of this crap is more than enough.

Admitting defeat, ~LA

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