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See Jane Sober

 

Day 16: Moody Monday

I think I would start this post by saying that I don't particularly care for Monday if it weren't my LAST Monday with the students. They made me pay for it, too. They were WILD. Unfettered is a word that comes to mind.

I have one student, who is extremely boisterous. Goes from timid to terror in 0.2 seconds. I finally admonished, "PLEASE! SIT DOWN! I NEED SPACE!" He ignored me, walked up to me and squeezed my sides, scrunched up his face and said, "I JUST LOVE YOU!" "I LOVE YOU TOO, BUT YOU ARE DRIVING ME NUTS!" I acknowledged.

On days like this, where I am occupied, needed, responsible, ADULT, I have no problems. AL doesn't even cross my mind. Yes, we had some words when I went to get dinner tonight, and he was looking at me alluringly from the inside of an Ecco Domani. I wanted to lick the bottle and tell him, "shhh...somebody might see us," but I snubbed him. Snooty ME. Snooty, Grape LOVING, me. Oh, Al. How I loved thee.

It's the unknown that is about to slap me in the face that I am afraid of. Dick and I will be separated for what I am acknowledging will probably be AWHILE. I only have 60 days authorized there for THE WHOLE YEAR. I don't want to blow my load over the summer and then be stuck (literally in 8 feet of snow) at my Mom's for the winter. I am CONVINCED it would kill me. I am deathly allergic to cold weather. Yes, the longer I spend there the more counseling I can get, but...counseling? Tropical paradise? Counseling? Tropical Paradise? Even I can do that math.

What makes it worse is that Dick and I have already begun the dance of separation. We bicker, we stress. We don't take advantage of the moments. I am completely AWARE of what is going on, but that doesn't mean that I stop myself from being a porcupine. PRICKLY! PRICK! LY!Better that I am not drinking, otherwise it would be one BIG, FAT, UGLY mess. And I know, because it has been mess after mess every time we have had to pack up.

I am making a note to make a conscious effort not to be SUCH.A.BITCH.

Is there a pill for that?

Jane Says: There's an art to the game, the aesthetics of love, the athletics of loss.
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