The Sweeter, Softer Side

This is usually my favorite time of the day. Writing is something I enjoy more than almost anything else I do, but it is hard tonight because I am angry. Angry enough to be pulling up moldy wet carpeting by myself and hauling it up the hill to the main road for the garbage collector tomorrow. Bag by bag, because they don’t take anything not in a bag!

I could wait for help, but I just don’t feel like it. I am feeling tired of being reasonable and nice. Right now I would prefer to find something to yell at and maybe even hit, or kick. Except I can’t think of what that would be. Everything I think of is not something I could do that too.

I had about a half a glass of wine left over from a couple of weeks ago -- I drank it right out of the bottle! How’s that for crass? Kind of a waste though, really. It didn’t taste good that way, but at least now I can throw the bottle away and it won’t keep tipping over in the refrigerator. Everything seems to be piling up and falling down at inopportune moments right now.

Nothing is going the way it should. On top of all that I don’t feel good, which I suspect makes everything else seem worse. I am so allergic to this damn stuff in my house that if it didn’t belong to my son, I would simply up and move, but that would not be fair to Lennon.

Lennon! Always it is the Lennons that remind me of life’s sweeter, softer side. I suppose when I think about it, that is such a gift that anything else should be superfluous. I need to remember this!