Whirlwind Storm

The coming of fall has sapped my energy to do much but get through each day, stay up too late, then get up and do it all again the next day. The constant work of keeping up with dishes, grocery shopping, doctor appointments, cleaning and laundry on top of working full-time and taking care of this boy every other week, it’s grinding on me, hard. The teacher sends SO MUCH WORK home. The homework may only be a sheet or two but then there are multiple other things the kid is supposed to do every day, or several times a week, and they all involve my supervision or interaction. Like I have to time him doing math drills. Or he has to read lists of sight words out loud as quickly as he can and I have to make sure he doesn’t miss any or pronounce them wrong. He has to read 15 minutes a night and then I have to write down on a sheet what he read, and whether or not he did math drills and sight word drills.

The parent-teacher conference dinners are in two weeks, so all the organizing leading up to that is going on as well. I stopped by one of the restaurants yesterday with a letter confirming what we are ordering from them, and to thank them. I really hope they give us enough food. There’s little to be done about it if they don’t as we’re stretching the budget because we couldn’t find anyone to actually donate anything, so we have to buy all the food this time around.

I get more and more panicky as it gets colder and colder. I just am not ready. I have to quit eating and drinking everything in site and try to find some time and energy to exercise. I haven’t run in weeks and everything hurts because my arthritis gets worse as soon as it gets cold. So working out is about the last thing I feel like doing, especially since I don’t get done with everything I have to do for the day and night until 9pm.

I need a vacation. Impossible. I need a winning lottery ticket. A new car. A carpet that’s not stained. Clothes that aren’t too small. T-shirts not riddled with tiny holes. A throat that doesn’t get sore EVERY FUCKING MONTH. A job that doesn’t make me feel loathed and worthless every day.

Where’s the Calgon?

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