Thank you to all of you who, instead of knowingly reminding me that two days does not a pattern make, kindly joined me in rejoicing in my two night’s of sleep. Need I explain my absence by describing how two good night’s is all I had?
I’m quite sure that my on-going fatigue is the reason I’m so off-balance today. It didn’t help that I gassed up the car to a whopping $60 this morning. That officially blows my budget. It means I have to gas up LESS than twice a month to stay on track. I’m not sure how much less driving I can do. I can’t very well walk to La Crescenta to tutor. And while I can (and often do) walk to the grocery store, I can’t when I’m buying milk, eggs, cheese, and all those other cold things which are so essential to a healthy household. I think the only frivolous driving I do at this point is getting to and from our Friday morning playgroup, which hardly counts as frivolous because it maintains sanity in our home. I am preparing myself emotionally to give it up, but that’s going to take me a while still.
Angela is leaving. They’ve decided to use their tax refund to move to a new place. I knew this was coming as she’s pregnant and they just need a bigger place, but to hear her say it today sent me into high-gear-panic. What am I going to do without my baby-sitting share? I can’t afford to pay someone. (I couldn’t afford Esme, for the record, and we survived so I guess we can do it, but things are a bit different now and I’m less confident we can make it.) Not to mention, what will I do without a friend three doors down? It took us a while to find our groove as friends, but now I rely on her a great deal and I will miss her terribly.
Mum and the remaining Whitehorse contingent of the family are moving this summer. (To Edmonton, it appears, although the location is not final.) It was disequilibrating when the house burnt down, and it was wierd when I went back to visit, being in the new house. It’s immensly more strange to realize that I will never again go “home” to Whitehorse. I may go and visit the places, and see my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but never again to my parents’ house. I feel strange about that. I hope that someday Paul and I will have our own home, and we’ll feel more rooted. Maybe then we won’t feel quite so attached to our parents’ homes, and the cities in which we were raised.
Dad and Liz start demolition on their house probably this week. That, too, is strange, as that home has been more consistently my “other” home than the Whitehorse house. But they’ve been talking about this for a while, and they are rebuilding on the same lot, so there is consistency. I think it’s the surprise, combined with the departure, that makes Mum’s move such a bigger deal than Dad’s demo.
Of course, this post would be incomplete without mentionning what great pains Boy Blue has taken to keep me from writing discearnable words. His freakout is much more pressing than mine, and I must once again put aside myself and take care of him. I have such little time in which I can so easily sooth him with my time and attention. I hate wasting it in front of the computer.