Once Upon A Midnight Dreary

Three hours of broken sleep makes Erica something something.

CRANKY AND TIRED.

It’s currently liminal Spacemas on my side of the screen with no end in sight and I’m doing my best to go with it but it’s all very Inception-like.

Kiddo made a choice for himself and, unfortunately, I had to remind him that nobody has a right to make him feel bad for a choice he is comfortable with.

Sadly, I am his one and only cheerleader but I am the loudest cheerleader.

He’s graduating with a business degree and a provincial diploma but not an official diploma from the school because his school is religious and he failed religion in the most spectacular fashion. I genuinely didn’t know a grade could get that low.

After a whole month, my apartment’s management is finally coming to fix the AC and I am excited to be able to cook without sweating.

I received my very first piece of mail and I legitimately cried. There’s someone out there who not only cares about me but cares enough to take the time to find a card, write the nicest things inside of the card, and send the card all because they know mail makes me feel loved and fills me with joy.

I don’t cry about much. I can hear stories about war crimes or the American concentration camps or, really, the actual worst things in the world, and my heart will break but I won’t cry nor will I be surprised. Be nice to me or if I am witness to kindness, I will be too stunned to speak and will bawl like a toddler who cannot regain control of their emotions.

Why, yes, I have been to therapy before. Why do you ask?

I was promised a thunderstorm and these are not thunderstorm clouds.

So many people live here, you guys. It’s kind of insane.

If you saw last night’s post, no you didn’t. It’s rare that I private a post before the end of the month but I was a little tipsy and wrote more than I was comfortable with. Some topics should not be made public.

It has been 9 days and I’m still in a great deal of pain but at least I haven’t had to lay on the floor yet this week. It’s progress but all of this has made me think twice about Second Job. I am genuinely struggling with the decision.

I looked at flights to Newfoundland today and I just need to get a few things in order before I purchase the tickets and book the hotel. I’m really going to make this happen. An actual vacation. Holy fucking shitballs.

Look at this menace to south central who drinks his juice in the hood.

Two of my favourite soups to make are Fronion and chicken dumpling.

I already know which meal I’m going to make first when my best friend finally comes to visit.

The moving company I used refuses to provide me with an invoice reflecting the damage discount and have now ghosted me. Good thing I haven’t paid yet.

I will forever hold a grudge against the dictionary for adding “payed” as an acceptable spelling of the word “paid”

Change is really fucking hard. Holy fuckspheres.

I’m having a tough time with it today.

I pizza’d and french fry’d at the same time and somehow ended up in Narnia.

It genuinely feels like I stepped through the looking glass but I’m not following a white rabbit, I’m following myself.