I really don’t know how to handle my level of frustration. Everything makes me upset, and I can’t accomplish the simplest chore without falling apart. Yesterday it was the food processor that wouldn’t work. The day before I had a melt down over a can of tomato sauce. I’m afraid to attempt anything, because I can’t seem to do anything right, and I know I’m going to end up a mess. Even the computer gives me fits, and it usually jumps through hoops for me.
My mother isn’t very well today. I’ve had to clean the bathroom several times, and that never makes for a good day. It’s different somehow cleaning up after an adult than a small child. Maybe it’s the adult’s diet. Maybe it’s because she was on aspirin therapy and it caused bleeding, which makes the feces black. Call the doctor and they just say, “stop taking it.” Why did they give it to her in the first place, if she’s had this problem before? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just because I’m a mess.
I end up going to the store late at night every night, or early every morning, because she decides she needs something. Every single day. Yesterday it was laundry detergent. The day before it was hand soap. Today, she has used the last of the cream for her coffee. If I could just do it all at once it would be easier. But, no, every single day we have something else that she absolutely has to have right away., and I can’t very well leave her alone, especially with the bleeding. She could fall. Mala is working late every night on the school musical, and isn’t home until dinner is long over and I’m tired and irritated enough to jump off the roof. So it’s late at night or early in the morning – neither a time that I’m very good with. (Who invented early morning, anyhow?) I’m not ready for this. I’m still too fragile for this. As I’ve said before, I’m a mess.
By the way, there was a hearing yesterday. Apparently the defense needs more time to get their motions ready. The April 5 hearing has been put off until April 19. Swell. Another hearing about a hearing. I was unable to attend, being a mess. Probably just as well. I would just be more frustrated. I might just throw my notebook at someone, and the bailiff would grab me by the scruff of the neck and march me out of the courtroom. Or he’d take away my crochet hook – the only thing that helps me maintain my sanity. Yarn I can handle. I just can’t handle anything else. A mess. Monkey.