Where do we get them from………….

Right. So most people have heard about Dad through the grapevine that weaves its way around my work place. A lot of people have spun platitudes. Some have simply been honest and said, ‘I don’t know what to say’. These people I like muchly. The ones I really love are the ones who say.’ Jesus Kate, that’s a big bag of wank right there.’ I don’t need you to make it better. I need you to agree its shit. And Crap and that there is an evil presence in the world that has aligned its forces against me and we must take up arms against it with an Army of Ninja Penguins and assorted snacks/chocolate/cider/beer and GUNS. Many many guns.

However SOME people tend to veer sharply to the Looney side. There is a lady in filing; we will call her Doris for this. She is a very lovely, but a very weird, older lady. She’s one of those that always has a tissue about her, and smells vaguely of TCP and mint. However, she may look meek and a bit wet, but FUCK ME, don’t piss her off. She’s misleading that one……..Anyway, I'm over there one day and the conversation goes a bit like this.

Hey up folks.... It appears normal service has resumed.

Sleep, Sleep, merciful sleep, is keeping me company these nights it appears! Hurrah! *huggles sleep closer to her so it NEVER LEAVES again*

You know I believe I may have turned a corner! I think the recent storm has passed leaving me feeling much more in control of my own emotions/brain/body/movements/marbles again! I am not one for dramas. I had enough of that attending an all girls secondary school. *shudders* However for one who really loves a quiet life I appear to have become quite the magnet for them!

The problem is it turns me into some sort of raving lunatic. I've been a nightmare to be around and feel quite sheepish when looking back. (I know I know it’s been traumatic but you know!) Where I thought I was dealing well with it all, I can now clearly see I was merely flailing my arms around in a windmill like fashion. Where I thought there was an exterior of calm, there was, well the painting of scream.

What's the story morning glory, the scales fall from my eyes.....

I slept! I actually slept. The road to this blissful unconsciousness last night was possibly the longest, bumpiest, volatile one I've ever taken for a good nights sleep. But it was sleep.

It started of innocuous enough. (Doesn't it always) with arriving home after yesterdays duel with crying. (to cry or not to cry was the question) I had asked soon-to-be-ex-hub if he could possibly give me a hand this week, as its my last week in the house and at work, and that i was a little, well, overwhelmed. Sure. He says. He then proceeds to tell me that he won't be there all night Monday, is out Tuesday, and Wednesday but can be around Thursday. My retort was, well that's a fat lot of fucking good to me! I've got a week left and you not fucking well here at all! Yer selfish bastard of a boy. And then, in true toy throwing fashion, I had what can only be described as a Meltdown. In fact, I melted so spectacularly that I was genuinely concerned that I was after having some sort of nervous breakdown. (More like a breakthrough I would guess)

Haven't we been here before.........

Oh you know the part. With the crying and the wailing. And the floor. Ah yes the floor. It seems to become my friend at moments in need. Rushing up to greet me with open arms. Loving, warm, and MAY I add, bloody hard.

I am starting to think there is a real market for a floor made of cushions. Oh, no wait, I believe that is called a sofa...............

I have been fine all weekend. I have even enjoyed the freedom of driving to see whom I choose when I choose. THAT has been bloody marvellous! In fact I would go so far as to say, I had a lovely weekend. (Divorce, blah blah, freedom yedeyah) In fact, at some points, it was a HOOT! SO why, the floor? Well.