It has been exactly 6 months since we moved out of our cute little house on Church Street. 6 MONTHS. That’s 182 days. 4,368 hours. 262,080 minutes! 262,080 minutes of my precious life that I have been without a home. I know, I know, there are millions of people in the world that are less fortunate than me, who are homeless and don’t have anything to eat. Today, I don’t care. Today is about ME, and today I am MAD.
I had my first breakdown at work today. Work is the WORST place to have a breakdown, especially for a woman. It makes you look weak and fragile and unstable, not to mention a bit crazy. Thankfully, no one saw me. It is all Frank’s fault. Frank and the trim carpenter. Excuse me, Frank and the IDIOT trim carpenter who’s trying to take advantage of us!! Little does he know that I am on to him. I’m smarter than you think buddy. You think I’m making your life miserable now? Just wait until tomorrow when you show up at my house to work and I tell you that you are FIRED.
Last week, there was a light at the end of the tunnel…the first light that we have seen in 6 months. Today, it’s dim. And if I follow Will’s belief that tomorrow will only be worse, the light will be out. DARKNESS. I can’t handle the darkness. It makes me MAD. Mad and weak and fragile and unstable and a bit crazy. I’m not any fun to be around. I don’t even like hanging out with me. And that, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, is simply unacceptable.