working backwards

my mild freak out over my father has run its course; i should just cop to the fact that i love my dad madly but he drives me nuts, all at the same time. there will always be anxiety and frustration and cross-purposed communication between us.

the Mild Freak Out (MFO) being over, i just feel drained. last week was mentally exhausting, physically draining and just a pile of poo. love my job. love. it. but i snapped at a coworker and i never do that. i never lose my temper. (ok, once i lost my temper.) and i did. i got snippy. thankfully the object of my ire has skin thicker than calloused feet so my bad manners bounced off him like a toothpick off a tank. but work and no vacation, plus having a bedroom that makes me want to crawl into a pit and die, AND not having practiced yoga for months (and now my knees are acting up again) - all this makes me want to rent a dumpster, put it under a window and throw everything out so i can start all over with nothing.

how totally cool that would be. to start over. clean slate. scratch.
...
my roomie's family was in town over the weekend and i realized that my apartment is not child friendly. it is a death trap of exposed outlets, wires, open cupboards, chairs leading to wide windows, barware, sharp edges, carpentry and adult comic books with images far too disturbing for youthful eyes. i found myself 'reading' a catwoman comic book to roomie's niece, turning a violent bank heist into a rather mundane day at the office where selena has to put up with some mild harrassment and i actually ended with a tidy little moral about the need for unions in the workplace.

we felt some mild anxiety about the absolute Adult-ness of our home, but whatever. when we were kids we didn't have baby seats and we survived just fine. on the edge, baby!
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sunday i finished reading a thriller (must start going back to the library) and spent 3 hours at the church, setting up the dining hall for the supper we feed the homeless. (or is the new social agency term 'under-domiciled'?) People of the Bag, i'll call them. it...wasn't so bad. everyone was sorta cool; there were even a few, if they were totally cleaned up and didn't have meth mouth, would be kinda hot.

(cough)
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the night is cool. it's the kind of night i sleep under a sheet, my windows are wide open and the little breeze floating in, making the curtains bell out, makes me feel like i'm somewhere where my language isn't spoken. i'm so going to sleep through my alarm.