Monday: A patchwork of emotions welling up inside, threatening to bubble over the surface at any given moment.
Tuesday: Much like Monday except for the charming spillage of hot tea all over the desk creating accidental watercolors of hand-written reports.
Wednesday: What was that? Gunfire? Right where I need(ed) to be? Abort Mission (at least temporarily).
Thursday: Another conversation with James (aka: DAD). He asked for my address (I've only lived in the same location for eleven years next month) but, no worries, I understand. He asked if he sent me something, would I read it. Hmmm... now, wondering WHAT could it be? Though, I suspect it has to do with his faith. We'll see 1. if he sends or 2. when it arrives.
Friday: Much too tired to go to the store for beer, wine, or other. Probably just as well.
Saturday: Scrubbing bubbles and shelf liner rule the day.
Sunday: What? Here already? No booze, no dates, no clean underwear! I.E. Laundry. Where, yet again, some dip shit messes with our clothes. In Danielle's words, "what the fuck is wrong with people?"
. . . and it is Monday again: A patchwork of emotions welling up inside, threatening to to bubble over the surface at any given moment.