|||||"Umbrella" - Rihanna||]|
1:52am, alone in the darkness. Posting to LiveJournal. This is the time when you would expect me to be sad.
Unaccountably, really. =) If any week calls for it... well, fine, not any week (I've had worse), but still! -- Rob was arrested and jailed for a few hours with a BENCH WARRANT that we never heard about over a stupid outstanding parking ticket ($25) on Monday, the broken brake lights that he was pulled over for turned out to be a $400 electrical fix versus something simple, his car needs another $600 in repairs to be not-dangerous to drive, I got horribly ill on Wednesday and missed work, and the landlord is jacking up the rent and none of our roommates are 100% that they'll be able to stay (in fact, 2 of the 3 definitely won't be sticking around).
Days pass and it continues to be borne in on me just how much of a fool I was in falling for The Slimebag and how much of a twit I've been around people that I'd like to have respect me.
Fingers and hands and arms hurting from typing again, too. And I've gained weight. I'm officially heavier than I've ever been in my life, and more out of shape, and more in debt.
Yet I'm not sad.
Best guess is that this is a manic phase. Some distant part of my brain is irritated at the thought... not so much that I'm manic, but that manic-ness has to be my first and best guess whenever I exhibit traits that might otherwise be mistaken for courage, self-reliance, strength of character. Bweh.
And still not sad. =) Smiling. I can't stop seeing the positives alongside all the crap. I'm married to a man that I love. While I'm not beautiful, I could be a lot uglier. Although my job is painful and tedious, it could be much worse, and it pays enough to allow us to at least pretend to have enough money to get Rob through teacher college, and it paid for all of his badly-needed medical foo that we crammed into last year. They're jacking up the rent, but if we can find roommates, it's still cheaper and nicer and more convenient to live here than anywhere else we've seen.
If this lasts, though... I wonder. Besides mind-numbing depression, is rock-hard optimism another survival response?
I rediscovered the library, too, and I've found that I like Xbox games. Maybe it's the recreational therapy that helps.
Oh, and did I mention that Dad has recovered enough that he's re-learning how to drive?