Fucking Monday, am I right?

“Yay! It’s Monday!” said no one ever.

This was a fucking miserable weekend. It was sunny, with only a hint of wind. However, it was terribly humid, making both days just awful for any activity that involved physical movement. My new veil poi finally showed up from China, and just being outside for 20 minutes was bad enough to send me back in. The barely-there wind was just enough to keep the silk blowing off course, and the heat and humidity made them stick to me. I was exhausted yesterday afternoon, and I snuck in a little nap.

I made my trip out to buy laundry soap yesterday morning. Guess who still needs to buy laundry soap? Yeah. I loaded the washer, grabbed the box of detergent pods, and … dishwasher pods. I don’t have a dishwasher. I was so excited to find pods on sale and the internal debate about what size box to buy, that I didn’t read the box.

Shawshank texted me from his mom’s phone yesterday morning, and we chatted off and on all day. He took a walk around TinyTown and was out and back in about 30 minutes. He remarked that a lawn decoration made from an old toilet filled with flowers wouldn’t seem out of place. His stepdad has already put him to work, and he helped fix a leaky tank on the camper. He should have a phone of his own this afternoon, and some more clothes tomorrow.

We briefly chatted about our plans, and briefly dipped our toes in some honesty about the last couple of weeks. It was nice to talk about things, even if it was just a few lines. I find it difficult to ask questions about what’s happened, or to talk about my feelings about things. The way I’ve explained it, there’s a couple of reasons why I feel like I can’t talk about how it’s all affected me. From where I sit, I’m not the one who’s spent 117 days in jail, I don’t have the right to have feelings about it.

At the same time, I don’t want to ask questions. It’s like the faulty logic used when people complain about teaching sex ed in schools – if we talk about things, he’ll want to do things. However, he’s insisted I can and should ask questions when I have them. It’s something I need to work on.

Our new work hours start this week. I don’t think I’ll be affected until next week, which is fine by me. StressedRPh isn’t back until Thursday, also fine by me. Since I want to have my yard sale this weekend, I need to buy price stickers and start to make some piles in the house. The more I get done during the week, the better. My project for the week is to go through one room every night and determine what to sell on Saturday. If I can slap price stickers on things, even better. Ideally, I would like to put everything in one central area, which would make it easier to haul everything out in a short period of time.

Let the week begin. Let’s get this shitshow on the road.