Springer / Spring Her

So tomorrow afternoon my family is staging an intervention. My sister is in a terrible relationship with a terrible man and she has finally (three kids later) decided it's time to go. The parents are circling the wagons. An apartment has been rented for her and plans have been made. If all goes well she'll be safe by tomorrow night.

It was all supposed to be simple enough - he was working nights, so they were going to wait until he left for work and then we were all going to load her shit up and go. But he's not working there anymore (shocker of all shocks) so it's going to be messy. Oh, and also probably involve the cops. My nephew is visiting his dad out of town and the baby will be the first thing packed up and removed, so she'll be safe enough.

I, of course, am working. All day. And then there's the book club... which I would TOTALLY skip if I could. I hate the book. I still can't tell if I just hate biographies or if it's written as poorly as I think it is, but I have 100 pages to go and I want to do anything but read it. I am the leader so I sort of have to be there. Oh, and I have to read the book. It's a little after ten and I have two choices - 1) stop writing this entry, read for two hours, then read like mad while I'm on the air tomorrow night and finish or 2)keep writing, go to sleep early enough to not drag-ass all day tomorrow, bend time so I have a few free hours, bend time agian so I can take a nap, then go to work.

I'm still writing. I'll let you know how bendy time can get tomorrow!

My boss at Hospice scared the crap out of me today. We have a new patient who we're supposed to meet tomorrow. They're supposed to sign all of the legal stuff and make the really hard decisions and it's all important and official and sensitive. The problem is that all of the social workers are going to be gone. So She hands me the file and says, "So I guess it's up to you." (Screeeeeeeech... Wha?!?)
Good ol' long pause.
"To make sure that the boss remembers to have them sign all of the paperwork." They're sending me with the manager. She laughed. She thought it was funny that my reaction was to go very still and pale. "Rabbit-like" is what she said. Whatever. It's not like I'm going to say no.
The thing is, I would have done it. It would have been awkward and I would not have represented the office very well, but I would have done it. If she told me to stand on the corner and jump around like a monkey I would have done it (again with the awkwardness and poor representation). But I'm not doing this 16 free hours a week because it's fun. I am doing it because I have to. I need this.

But this getting up early shit is not my friend. I'm tiredtired and it's latelate and I have this fucking book to get though.

BUT... I got to knit tonight. I almost didn't go... there was a lot of emotional cloudiness today and the only reason I didn't start crying (and never EVER stop) when there was a problem with one of our live (!!) shows was because I was determined not to cry in front of the very nice cleaning lady. Seriously. I have got to find more time for myself (I have two Netflix just sitting here all sad becasue I have no time to watch them. And Social Work? Not for the emotionally unstable. And grumpy people suck. Oh, and people I know have GOT to stop having babies. At least until I am really, really over this whole infertility thing. And the husband (God love him) said (about the 2-bedroom hose we're considering,) "And if we do have a baby we can always use the basement for Bean's room."

We're not going to have a baby. We both know this. We're also not going to adopt. This whole baby chapter is closed for good. My sister will probably have five or six more kids with inappropriate and unreliable men and we will not have another child. Ever. And it's starting to be ok. When Bean is in college I'll be 40. That's pretty cool, right? And no more diapers and no more teething. And camp is much easier to afford when there is one of them instead of 2. And I think that Bean is turning out to be such a fantastic child despite my mothering skills, not because of them.

So what I wanted to do was go home and have some pajama time. With ice cream.
But I went. I figured that if I burst into tears at the table I would just say I dropped a stitch and go home!
We met and had dinner (and ice cream). And while we were knitting and talking and having a good ol' time some people I hadn't seen in awhile came by... so that was cool. Strange but cool. Strange because some of the best summers of my life were with them and now we rarely see each other. Cool because they didn't just pretend not to see me, but actually came up and talked for awhile. We even talked about blogging... (L, are you reading this?? It was nice to see you... you should find me more often.)

And so there was knitting and ice cream and lots of good conversation. And ice cream.

And it's almost eleven and I really have to read the (fucking) book. (I am in a good part, though. They're researching In Cold Blood. He's still a crappy writer).

Night y'all.