In the moon
August 30, 2004 || I have nearly survived August!
And it does feel like something to celebrate. I'm ready to kick this miserable summer in its soggy butt for an unkind farewell.

Life is in a bit of a standstill. I've actually grown used to not working now, and the idea of going back to work seems remote and unlikely. I'm not completely sure what I spend my days doing, but somehow it's still better than the toil and the mud.

Actually I'm trying to fill my world with all kinds of obsessive little things. I've started planning and obsessing for this year's nano already, what with it only being two months till November. I'm obsessing over Sims 2, although I won't be able to play it for quite some time, since My Precious (that is, the laptop) is already groaning under the heavy weight of too much stuff and nowadays crashes for no reason, for kicks. I'm obsessing over home education (don't ask me why...) and there's hardly any need to say that I'm obsessing over fertility treatments, my hormones, babies and miscarriages.

I wake up early in the mornings, have coffee with Jim, read things online, watch things on TV, play something... I have a shower, maybe wash some dishes, do some laudry, feed the cat. I usually only seem to remember about food and such things when the need becomes apparent. I easily spend the whole day in my pyjamas and lie in bed reading books I've read ten times before. And it's not boring. It's simple and slow, happy and blurry. It's goddamn perfect.

It does seem that when it rains it pours, though. My grandfather is very very ill and very probably won't live through the coming winter. I haven't met him since my wedding, and won't be seeing him anytime soon. Ever? It's quite upsetting.

Whereas my grandmother had been ill for almost as long as I can remember, my grandfather has been so much less so. I mean, yes, he used to be an alcoholic and has for decades had all kinds of health problems because of this, and he has been getting steadily worse for a long time. He once almost died when I was eleven or so and we went to see him in the hospital, just lying there, unable to speak but looking at us and crying. He pulled through, of course. I... I haven't been thinking that he's going to die.

But that's not something that I plan to get obsessive about.



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