Big feelings make sense.

Ok, current things I’m feeling feelings about.

The house remodel is uhm, going poorly. My lawyer, however, said the kindest thing ever and told me that my current approach is exactly the right one. I have multiple next steps. But this is complicated and layered. Lots of phone calls. Lots of dodging phone calls. The contracting company is eager to minimize this problem. My lawyer is really happy I’m getting inspections done. Don’t talk to the contractors till I have a better idea. I like that advice. (It occurs to me that putting this on the internet is questionable. Ha.)

I’m not trying to screw them. I’m trying to make sure my house isn’t permanently damaged to the tune of $100,000–yo.

That’s a fuck ton of money to pay to get poor quality work, motherfucker.

So. I’m formulating a strategy. And my lawyer likes it. And that pleases me. But LOTS OF BIG FEELINGS ALL OVER THE PLACE with this sucker.

Health stuff continues to be fun as it is. Sleep sucks. This fucking piece of shit cleanse (given how it is making me shit…. I’m punny…) I think is part of why I’m not sleeping. I think my body is literally freaking out about what is going on inside me and I can’t sleep because my body wants the onslaught TO GOD DAMN END.

I’m going on a month where I haven’t gotten more than 6 hours of sleep in a night. Some nights as little as 4 hours. That was last night. I don’t want more nights like that. But I got multiple REM cycles… is that a good trade off?

God I don’t know any more.

And I’m supposed to be laying out tile and I’m fucking freaking out.

I have a med evaluation on Monday. That always stresses me all the fuck out. How poorly will this go? fuck. fuck. fuck. I wish I had confidence that because this referral comes from my psychologist I am more likely to get along with the doctor in question.

fuuuuuuuck.

Give me back my Lorazepam so I can sleep!

It’s magical. I don’t need a high dose! JUST 1 MILLIGRAM!!

Or I can take half a bottle of sleeping pills and just get a stomach ache as my body says, “Fuck you bitch we ain’t dying today.”

I’ve been pretty fucking bitchy and I’m so sorry. Noah and Pam both followed me out into the back yard last night to help me do a minor chore and I flipped out. I felt overwhelmed, claustrophobic, and like JUST LEAVE ME ALONE TO LET ME DO THIS THING HOLY FUCKING CHIRST.

I had just gotten home from driving in shitty traffic for an hour. I was buzzing with frustration.

It’s not an excuse.

fuck

This is too many balls in the air for me to maintain “nice” all the time. I just…

I feel like when the remodel is over I need to spend a month of just hanging out with the kids. Take baths. Take walks. Read books.

Don’t think or talk to anyone.

I’m so tired.

I don’t even want to see the forking doctors. I’m so overwhelmed. I want to crawl in a hole and not come out.

I god damn hate adulting.

Gear up for a fight, but don’t gear up too much or you might use a tone of voice that is too harsh. You might take it out on someone who is unfortunately just standing nearby. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

This house represents the single largest portion of my retirement fund. I’m gonna need to cash out at some point. I need this remodel to be done well so that I can capitalize on this god damn property.

I could walk out of here able to live comfortably without working forever.

Who forking knows what the future will bring. But this investment is serious fucking business.

I keep thinking, “You messed with the wrong bitch.” Viola Davis is dreamy. (It’s a line in How to Get Away With Murder.)

The kids want ramen and Youngest Child has a class soon. I should get up and do that. I guess my parasites are cooked enough.

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