Alligator Tears.

Honestly, I’m not sure that I’m using that metaphor right. Is there some element of mischief there? Or fraud? I can’t remember and there is no one here to ask. and honestly, i really resist searching things up on the internet that are better found out in conversation.

today is a cry day. big fat loppers, and little ones that I don’t know are coming. puddles.

I spent 1500 on a plumber yesterday to bring us up to a level with this century in terms of my well. It was definitely money well spent as we all took satisfying showers for the first time in ages, if a little bit extra iron-y. but they were the third plumber visit in two weeks. THIRD.

and this morning I had a hard time waking up, and stumbled around the kitchen to make my coffee and there was no water. there was no water dude.

humpty landed his first whallop.

so in pitch black i go into the basement because needs must. and for the love of god, it all looks like it did yesterday, for all i can tell. and so i come back to the kitchen, soothing myself that there are no spiders in my hair and that my house is not in imminent danger of explosion.

2. my mom calls. 3.boys go to school with bitchery. lots of it. showers work, other places have water. so that is a win. 3.1 i drive mom home from her car shop. 4. get a call from my car shop. next week is hopefully the last day i spend at the dealership. maybe. but thats another grand. i’m officially worried about money and whether i have enough working as i am, or if i need to just go ‘get a job’ like my kids stupidly say because they are sometimes assholes.

5.my ex offers to host the eight year olds birthday party at his house of fun and i dream of his immolation. i do not say this to him because its completely irrational but then 6. i book a party at a trampoline place that i now officially cannot afford. I hate these months. I have forgotten how much I hate these months. Two birthdays, anniversary of my dad’s death and the big holidays.

7. I’m officially in pre-menopause and I can’t tell what my hormones are raising and what the devil is raising and what my actual life is raising.

I’m having a day of official overwhelm when the worries are winning. so be it. let it be known though, that …

i fixed my damn sink guys. my own damn self.

for seven dollars.

and i’m crying some more. i’m fine. i’m fine. i am. even in the pit, i am my own fucking little candle, right?

fucking hell.

maybe its crocodile tears. is that milli vanilli or elvis or something?

fug.

love you, even though i’m a slumpy mess.

-kate