Oh look, it’s October. I have approximately five minutes before I have to pack children’s lunches and vamoose. But was missing 20/20, and all that it represents… complaining, frustration, inertia… well, I guess I wasn’t quite missing that part of it. Just the writing. Doing. Looking for work, jobs and all of that feels hopeless, and writing here does not. So here I am.
Fall has settled into Baltimore; cool, gray days, chilly nights. Mimi and Beenie have been sleeping soundly in their freezing cold room under copious blankees. I woulda kept the air conditioning full blast in their room this summer if I’d known all they needed were sub-zero temps to help them sleep like sweet little logs.
What used to be regular freelance work has dried up and blown into the breezy afternoon gusts. It was too good to be true, I know this. But it hurts when that exposure to grown-ups and money disappears. OUCH! Strangely and terribly, it coincides with sudden, gigantic household expenses, completely unexpected. No income, many bills. Unsettling and stressful. Yet familiar somehow.
My daughters are writing their names. They are counting. Beenie is drawing scary faces on many small pieces of paper and taping them to various items in the house, deeming said items “haunted”. Apparently, the kitchen is haunted heavily. The television is, too, as well as a small indication on a front window that the entire house is haunted. Mimi is making some breathtaking paintings. Every day she brings a new one home. I love preschool, but hate the gigantic bill they just sent to me. Like four months of charges who the f knows what for. I dread the kinds of discussions I’m forced to have with the administration at that school, but shit, bill me by month, not every four months, or five or six months! There’s no way I’m going to be able to figure out what the hell is going on with this bill. More anxiety about money. Breathe.
More soon. I miss you.