It all goes downhill, when it becomes difficult to think up a decent title...
A rather slow start to the day... I dropped Kole off at school, and watched her walk away. I didn't want her to leave today, though I know how important school is for her. No, instead I wanted to call her back, keep the car, and go to the mall where we could look in the stores together. She's at the age now where stores that sell cheap jewelry and fashions to preteens rock, and while she doesn't wear make up often (it's not allowed at her school), she enjoys the process of 'getting ready'. It hurts a bit, too, to see her going through the preteen motions already. It's too fast, too soon, even though it's innocent enough, now.
I remember as a kid, watching my mother walk away from me, after walking to school, and feeling this same kind of pain that I feel when Kole and I are forced to be apart. My mother says I was a clingy child, in a fashion, and I wonder if I'm a clingy parent now, too?
I'm fat today. My tummy feels stretched out, and wobbly at the same time. My face feels puffy, and my double chin is more noticable. It takes a lot longer for my body to recover from last night's deep sleep. A frown line is prominent across my forehead, and I creak when I stand up or squat down to reach for the Barbie crap on the floor. No, she didn't crap, but why is it, even if I haven't seen my girl play with a Barbie doll for days, that I still find little Barbie high heels, and miniscule purses on the carpet for weeks later? I'm ruthless with the vacuum cleaner, and turn a blind eye when I see that I'm approaching the area of the last Barbie picnic. I can't hear a thing as plastic pieces are sucked up in the old Hoover. No, this old girl has had enough of pencil stick waisted, bullet breasted, blonde tressed dolls made in China by other eight year olds. I burn off my weight by midmorning, after the cleaning is done.
I'm still in love with all my former crushes in dreams at night. Last week, I saw Curtis Howell* standing by my locker door. Mygod. Curtis Howell. Why did my subconscious bring him up that Monday evening? I haven't seen or heard of him in decades, but again, I was forced to revisit the past, where he'd meet me after school to walk me partway home. And talk about crushes, I was crushed in grade 9 when, although I dumped first, I had to, to save face. I'll never forget Mike Masterson, even though it only lasted for about a month. I dreamt of him last night, alongside Sawyer and Jack. Why?
Unlike others, I have no retirement plan. I have a habit of just trying to make ends meet, and that was when I was legitimately employed, at a soul-sucking job. I'm being paid by production, and it's proving a struggle, but grant approvals are announced soon, and it's said to be a sure thing. So they say. But if it happens, I'll be rolling, at least, as much as I've ever rolled. I'll save, and I'll save, and I'll save.
Another cool, crisp day on the fringes of higher education. High as a kite in the sky.