So there, fuckers!

I've spent all weekend reading. Two books and two scarves later I realize I didn't do anything I said I would do.

I did get online and catch up with friends- and I did better than 'This is your once every two months or so note letting you know that I am still alive and my life is still too horribly complicated for me to enjoy trying to hang out right now.' I sent the 'back from the dead' email that really does mean I am going to start calling and going out again. Yes, I see the Jamroom Xmess party is happening, no, I am NOT going to miss Sally's wedding.

All I can say is that shitty things happen to me. I don't scream or rant and rave or get drunk and cry in public (oh, gross!). I stay home. I try to chill and not kill people. I don't make mountains out of molehills, I don't invent problems where there aren't any. For a semi-high maintenance girl, I really am low-drama. mostly because I tend to hole up with my drama until it's over. Worse things have happened to better people. My children are all alive and healthy and attractive and far too smart to boot. Complaining should NOT be on my agenda. I've always done my best with what I have- and do I really want that to change now?

And it's over, for better or for worse. I can't imagine that it could have turned out any worse, but I have an obligation to myself- and to those who depend on me- not to completely fall down over it. I can't stay bitter and angry and function, I'm just not built like that and I don't understand people who are. You ruin your life with that sort of emotional buggery- and everyone else you touch walks away affected by it as well. Why on earth would I let my life turn into that?

A scarf for Christmas says "You're neat and I like you, so here is something I made. But I don't like you that much...not enough for a shrug or something."

So I am concentrating on that. I can make scarves and I am a better person. Damnit.