How do I begin to tell a never-ending story of love, dedication, and confusion? It's complicated and convoluted, which makes me think I'm silly to even try. Still, people--including me--like to feel validated. I'm not narcissistic enough to believe that anyone owes me anything. Giving is a gift to me.
Somehow, I've been enveloped in some family drama with my only child. It doesn't take much. There are times when I sit back and wonder how the dickens a situation got out of control, only to realize later that it has to do with failed expectations. Sometimes I don't ask questions because I fear the answers or understand that I will get no response at all. I'm pretty sure my daughter's thoughts are the same. It's like writing a love letter and pouring your heart out to a person only to find the letter crumpled up in the wastebasket. Dear God...that has never been my intention, nor hers, I think. But here I am, Confused. Befuddled. Alone in my bungalow, which (thankfully) is still heated after Saturday's call to the furnace repair service. (This has been an expensive month!)
We are experiencing a big, nasty snowstorm. I'm not capable of digging out, so I happened upon a service that offers to dig out people for a price. They are coming on Wednesday to clear my outside surfaces. I have a critical doctor appointment on Thursday for kidney problems, but I understand that yet another snow is due that day. No rest for the weary! Am reminded of the old ketchup commercial: ANTICIPATION.
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