Yeah. I went out and bought a shameless number of pints and seriously didn't give a rat's patootie. I am living every day in a series of disjointed thoughts and realizations.

Example: The floor guys are putting in my beautiful and carefully chosen floors. Floor I picked out and chose to do because I knew B would somehow manage to get everything known to man on the beige rugs. WTF?? Who buys beige rugs anyway??? Between B and the cats I knew I needed to choose tile and wood throughout. Easy to wipe up surfaces.

So I am standing there watching the guys sponge off the gorgeous terra cotta tile in the kitchen and I was chatting with them and said something like: "B's going to have a hard time fucking this stuff up!"

Then I remembered.

So I moved away to appreciate the pretty tile entryway that had just been laid, the gorgeous decorative pieces making it so unique, and yet it was a large functional square so that when B comes in with snow on her boots, she can avoid the wood floors and take them off...

Then I remembered.

So I stop looking at the floors. I come inside to pay bills. It's an adult thing and can't relate to B in any way. It's a safe thing to do. Except I go to write a check and I see my Disney Princess checks that I bought because B picked them out.

Despair and depression are knocking at me door. I am fighting them off with Ben and Jerry. If I add Lindy Sue it'll be a gang bang.