Monday, August 5, 2019

August, the 12th month.

They say the Year of Firsts is the worst, but others say the second year is harder still when reality soaks in.  If next year is worse, I am in deep doo.  August has been a wild ride, and we're only five days in. 

Still, had a nice visit with Eve.  We talk about depressing crap in our lives, yet it cheers me up. 

Gave away the giant bean bag and the black mink blanket which goes with it.  It was great for guests and parties, and made a terrific dog bad.  The cats loved it.  However, it had become a place to pile blankets and throws and extra crap, so it was time to move it on to a new family.  A family with kids, a wonderful new life as a place to read, watch movies, and nap.  I am excited.  Sad, though, everything which Larry had touched is a mindfield.  Yes, Mind.  The black mink blanket was one he bought in Korea, the bean bag we bought at R.C. Wiley's shortly before we moved in here. 

I sorted the art adoption cards from last year into their album.  Reading the cards, I realized every piece of art I made then was when Larry was alive.  Random thoughts like that sneak up on me daily.  Some I can let surf past, but others swamp me and pull me into a circling whirlpool.  Some bite sharply, like sharks.  Diminishing waves?  That seems so simple.  Just keep swimming until the grief is a wading pool.  Ha.  Hahahaha fucking haha.


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