It is the middle of October and I have sheets and blankets on my clothesline. It’s not warm outside…chilly, actually…but it’s windy enough and dry enough to make me feel confident everything will be dried by the day’s end.

I won’t go into what it took to wash that load of sheets and blankets. I think I’ll take Stiva’s advice and call SEARS in the hopes of getting a repairman (or woman) to come out and take a look at it. I have better things to do with my time than sit in the basement laundry room, baby sitting a load of sheets.

Mental note to self: Ask Stiva if it’s okay for me to add him to my friend’s list. I’m really enjoying his blog.

But I digress. As usual.

I washed only the girl’s sheets and Michael’s crib sheets. I left my own on the bed. I’m not quite ready yet to wash out his smell. I have no one to talk me to sleep at night. To make me peaceful enough to rest. The lingering scent of his sweat is as good as I’m going to get for a while. And I tend to curl my body up in that spot at night, wrap my limbs around the body pillow and pretend it’s corner is my sacred spot in between his shoulder and neck.

Not good enough by any stretch but I’ll take what I can get at this point.

I had a very upsetting evening last night. And my tears poured until well after midnight. I’m not sure I’m ready to blog about why I cried pretty much non-stop. I guess I can only describe it like feeling as though I’m a castaway on Survivor. Unable to distinguish who to trust and who to stay away from. Who is trying to help and who is steering me deliberately in the wrong direction. I’m confused. Mixed up. And I feel stupider and stupider with every passing encounter.

I am scared of putting too much onto my children because some days…like this morning… they are the only things able to pick me up and make me smile. I am scared of smothering them with that responsibility because it’s not their job to pick me up when I’m feeling down, although this morning, I know it was quite by accident.

Yes, they all drive me completely fucking insane most days.

But I am so very blessed to have them.

It seems as though everyone else is only interested in what they can take from me. What I have to give to them. And the thing is, I’m kinda empty. I have nothing left to give. Nothing more for them to take. And I’m lost as to why they can’t see this.

All of that crying means that in addition to still being sick, my eyes are puffed out and swollen and my face still has a tinge of redness from the constant state of bawling for hours last night. I should have known better…it’s pretty stupid to cry when you already have a cold…but I couldn’t hold it in. I’m out of practice in that regard.

One last thing before I go.

I always assume people won’t like me. I always assume that I make a bad first impression. Even though I’m fond of saying that there are many reasons to NOT like me and it’s not fair to dislike me before I have a chance to give you a reason, I’m never surprised when someone doesn’t like me off the bat. I’m usually pretty surprised when someone does.

And I’m not sure why.