Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Sarcastic or Sad Journal Entry

I'm grateful for people running a weed wacker under my window 4 hours after I've gone to sleep. #firstworldproblems #apartmentlife #ThirdShiftWoes

I'm grateful for the letter from the township stating that I'll be fined if I don't have my septic tank cleaned out soon... even though I don't own one. #wtf

Actually, I am grateful for both of these. It gives me something to direct my negative emotions and energy at. I love my mom, and I'm grateful that she's alive and I could spend Mother's day with her. But reading the sign "free flower for mothers with their children" reminded me of my daughter Xandria, who died on May 3, 2000 at 2pm. I keep that pain locked away. But it really came out this week with a vengeance. She was my dream. Everything else is secondary.

But I have to lock that pain back away. Focus on other things. Writing. My characters refused to speak to me last week. They knew what day it was. Even when I try not to think about it, try to forget the date, it's there. My soul or whatever knows. And it screams in pain.

I have no idea why I'm writing this.

Oh, yeah, so I can bitch about a weed wacker and the stupid township instead of thinking about more pain than I can handle right now. All the topics I WILL NOT discuss on Facebook.

My brother hurt his wrist. I thought it was during his demo derby. Which he won a huge trophy... for his paint job... honoring... Trump. Shut up, I know. Yay, my brother won a trophy. Let's just leave it at that. Anyway, that's not how he hurt his wrist. That injury came when he punched through a windshield. His girlfriend pissed him off. She's been extra angry lately.

It's 11:20 am. I've been up for a half hour now. I should sleep. I think the weed wacking is done. Though,  I suspect the lawn mower isn't far behind. I have a letter to write to the township. And I wanted to stop at the post office because I forgot to take postcard stamps with me on Sunday.

Oh Yay, something else to distract me/ that I can bitch about instead!!!
Why sell postcards, but not stamps? Is it just me? Because even one of those postal vending machines would be fine. And a little box to mail the postcards. I realize that not many people send mail. But people do carry address books in their phones! I have half a dozen filled out. If I knew that was available at the park, I'd be all over sending even more postcards than the dozen I usually do. (I seriously dropped the ball on that this year. Whoops.) A cool Elysburg postmark ♡.

I'm the only person who gets excited about that, aren't I? I walked 2 miles in Chicago trying to find a mail box. Not even a drop INSIDE THE MAIN POST OFFICE!  Yeah Yeah, it's Thanks to Bombers. Figure out how to let a person mail a post card, OR just take away the ways to mail anything. The second! :/
Even the hotels were all, "that service is for guests only." Screw you people. I use to drive to the main post office in Bethlehem,  PA and stood in the long line to get the special postmark on my Christmas letters. The receivers didn't notice or care. I'm the only one who sees things like that and cares. (Actually,  my friend Nicki probably would, too.)

I own about 10 letter openers. Three on my desk, 1 on the dining room book case, 1 in the bathroom, 1 in the bedroom, at least 1 in my purse, 1 in the car... Seriously, never more than two steps from a letter opener. My mom, for some reason, opened all my wedding cards. Tore the envelopes to shreds. I mean really ripped into them. One envelope is in half. I cried for an hour when I found out, after the shock wore off, because I literally did not believe it was real. My mind rejected the sight. I was convinced it was a dream. I don't recall any conversations. It was like getting punched in the head-- how everything gets all fuzzy and sound doesn't quite get interpreted. I was in a daze like that. Almost 10 years later, this still bothers me. Really bothers me. I'm going to end up as a ghost that haunts envelopes.

11:45 am
Okay, I really need to try to sleep. It's Tuesday. My favorite day.