Alone.

Well, today is day three with just the kids.

In other words, I am alone except for periods of irritation. But really alone.

Sophie went to her friend's house so they could walk around and talk to and be seen by boys. I know that this is an essential part of development. I saw it on Desmond Morris's The Naked Ape. And yes, I watch shows made by ethologists, which is really a fancy word for "how animals fuck". Oh, and needless to say, she arrived home late. I hate this stage.

Celia seems to be coming a human again. She seems to have finally learned the Golden Rule. Don't fuck with me? I won't fuck with you. It makes life more pleasant. But still, as soon as she can reasonably make her excuses and be done with me, she is.

This all sucks. But more so this week as it is just me and them. Combined with a day totally alone and over thinking means that I am in the midst of an existential crisis. What do I want to be when I grow up and is that even conceivable at this point.

Am I kidding myself that I can find some way to eke a living out of writing/blogging. Yes, I was invited to participate in the Chicago Tribune Printer's Row Lit Fair (Previously the Printer's Row Book Fair) and to sit on the Good Eating Panel. But I haven't heard back so part of me thinks that they are reconsidering the invitation.

So here I am, alone... the girls are in bed. They have been ignoring me for hours. This makes me think about my future. And part of this is being encouraged by my finding that my sweet pooch has dug into the garbage can for used feminine products and eaten them. As far as I am concerned this is just her first step to our final encounter. When I drop dead and she eats me. Or as Jim suggested, she would just eat my face. Though it was comforting to hear that he had has the same irrational fear. Must be something someone in Lockport taught us.

So. forgive me as I quietly freak the fuck out. No doubt I will be better tomorrow. or later today most likely.

sigh.