I thought I made it out alive.

Neamhchiontach. 

Caleb's breath is warm against my forehead. His head is bent down against mine and I am frozen in place. Wanting so badly to run but wanting to stay, too. 

Ten days interest is going to cost you. He says it softly, voice breaking on the cost part. Every day that goes by means you're going to pay dearly. 

His birthday was on the third and we celebrated as a big family. As always. As always, it wasn't enough.

I struggle out of his embrace, tears streaming. My voice is caught in my throat, choked out by sudden insolence. Just pretend it's a year we aren't together and you'll be fine. I wipe my cheeks, trying to find the rage to replace the fear. Trying to be stubborn and hold my ground when it's an avalanche. He holds firm and I give up my fight, waiting for the dead (or the living) to rescue me. Not wanting to rescue myself. I don't want to be the bad guy in my own story. I just want him to stop keeping score. I'm not a game. There are no points to be had, here. He lost before he knew he was a player but he refuses to concede.

Supervillains (and Vanity Flair).

I just read the most terrible, downright...obsequious article and honestly, does it make any sense to frame your subject in such a way, so..transparently when the other articles in the same publication consist of a list of books we all should read and a list of face products we need to try? 

Just...GOD. 

Fucking hell. "Time flies around her in a nonlinear fashion". Dear sweet Christ. Someone begged for that assignment. On his fucking knees.

***

I actually hate the internet today. Be warned. Between seeing that Putin bombed a maternity hospital (you're never more vulnerable than when giving birth) and pretty much, oh, everything else I'm going to disappear into the only true equalizer (and my all-time best lover, Netflix) and live out the rest of my days watching nice things happen on the screen and just pretend it's my life.

***

Please, Neamhchiontach.

Five weeks to go. Easter is exceedingly late this year and Caleb has already had more than enough of Lent and my plans to see it through. He's gone from pouting to openly protesting to worrying to threatening and back around to moping. I guess those are his Five Stages of Disbelief. 

I'm not concerned. He will live. No one is writing articles about him. He's rich but he's not that kind of rich and he's also one of the rich who doesn't advertise it so you won't find articles about him in the newspaper or local magazines because by the time he had any money (all of it new) we had Benjamin and we all made an effort to keep Ben's tiny island of privacy as quiet as we could. Even Caleb, who was just starting out and back then Cole was the millionaire, though it was never millions, and we kind of knew Batman but he wasn't (and still isn't) exactly in the fold. 

***

Should I buy the Swiss village outside of Golden? Six houses, the perfect place for a commune, truth be told. 

If you're a billy goat. Lochlan laughs. Besides, it's not near the water. 

Oh, nevermind then. 

I know vaguely where Golden is but I wasn't actually paying attention. We haven't made it past Chilliwack, honestly. After living in the Prairies for so long I have no desire to be away from the sea ever again.

On not spending enough time alone.

Today was taken up with ferrying Ruthie back and forth to her car repair appointment (next city over) and having her come to the house in between to hang out while she waited out emergency repairs. I was tired but the moment they called to say her car was ready I started missing her again. It's very hard when she leaves but I'm getting used to the feeling of sadness in a way that makes it easier to cover with the pride I feel for how well she is doing out in the world. 

So now it's time to make dinner but I didn't have time to paint door trims today and that's fine. I'm only responsible for one door so it's easy. Maybe I'll add flowers on the inside trim. Just for fun, but probably not because if there is one thing I have learned it's to keep it plain, neat and neutral. 

In other news we ducked into an old favourite restaurant last night for a last-minute date night. Showed our vaccine passports, found a big booth in the back and ordered wine and pasta and just savoured being out. Not cleaning up takeout garbage. Not rushing home because it couldn't get cold. Not thinking about a thing, including the usual frowns I get when out and about due to the tattoo suit. Not that I truly care but I do hate the attention but I left the house in a t-shirt and leggings, expecting drive-through food. 

It was so nice, though, just to sit and sip wine. It really set the mood for the rest of the week. Maybe it's been too long since we've done that and we should do it more. Lochlan agreed, with that smile he reserves just for me.

Mellow(drama).

This morning I am playing the fun game of Are these side-effects or am I having a heart attack? and I'm honestly not concerned so probably side-effects. It's going to be so sad and pointless if I'm wrong. 

In the meantime I have shipped the remaining vodka back to my former friends at great expense to make a point, in spite of Caleb's efforts to not rock any boats (this after changing doctors) and received a lovely call whereby a voicemail was left acknowledging his (not Caleb's) distaste for the current 'situation' and complete understanding for my actions as a result. It won't do anything in the long run aside from denying myself my favourite imported vodka but you know what? I don't care. This war is bullshit. 

I have give up McDonalds and we all know how hard that is. Unless they withdraw from Russia. Who do I call?

It's going to be sad if this is my very last post though I'm fairly certain this is not a heart attack and just a muscular ache from scraping the door frame for painting prep or lifting boxes of bottles. Or side effects. Because THOSE aren't driving me nuts.

Wish me luck. I need a finger oxygen meter thingie. Maybe I'll order one on Amazon (gosh are they doing sanctions? If not I am fucked) and it will ironically arrive ten minutes after I die.

And I wore heels today! First time in ever.

 I was so sick last night and then I slept fitfully and was out the door at six-thirty this morning for (distanced) meetings and I have to make four pans of meatloaf for dinner but I think Lochlan is going to call a change and take over or let everyone fend because I don't think I have any steam left for anything. I still feel sick though I did have breakfast and lunch, a croissant and some coffee at the meeting and then dumplings on the run (living dangerously) and I did have an orange when we got home and now some tea to try and settle my stomach but I don't know. It would probably be wiser not to eat anything tonight and see how it goes. I did get my chores done this morning and then some, lots of extras in there but there are always things that need to be done, for sure. 

Food poisoning?

I don't know. We all ate the same things and everyone else was good but it sure felt like it. 

They have iron stomachs, Bridge. You...don't. 

I know. Hopefully it's gone. I feel better today. Just weak. 

Well, take a break and do nothing for a day. 

(*Snort*)

Don't snort at me. 

It wasn't 'at' you, PJ, it was a generalized noise. 

Same difference.

Pancake Princess.

Everyone wants to know what I gave up for Lent. Lent was a blur, frankly. These pills continue to kick my ass but in a good way, oddly. I don't feel all that creative and I can't concentrate and last night my heartbeat was in my throat and I was like this feels interesting but I didn't care about it either. 

I gave up my Diabhal for Lent. That's what I did. He is exceedingly unhappy about it but somehow takes comfort in the fact that as per Sam's rules it has to be something meaningful, something I will miss and struggle to avoid.

LOL.

Glass castles.

Storm doors are all done and after two days of being helpful, holding up this piece of trim or that mechanism and fetching t-squares and then drill batteries and then another trip to the hardware store I am freshly showered for like the fourth time here, sore and now the one to paint the trim to seal it against the elements sometime this week, I think. They all look amazing and it's nice to have a locked glass door that we can put the window down and have a breeze or simply have the glass and have light pouring in from outside with more security (the real reason I think my screen doors were changed out) without sacrificing heat or cold, depending on the season. 

There was only a little swearing, and boy, paint prices have increased a lot in the past year or two. Also we lost a bunch of drill bits halfway through and took forever to find them because I had put them in the box with the leftover nails and then promptly forgot. 

Also ladders. Ladders are so fun. And so is caulking but really not and it doesn't go very far but we bought a bunch of extra tubes so we're good now and now we have a whole raft of old wooden screen doors that aren't really salvageable because they were just about falling apart. 

Especially the side door to the driveway which has borne the brunt of Caleb and Lochlan pushing each other into it just about every third or fourth day for the past half-dozen years if not longer. 

But yeah they're done. Yay.

Rollercoasters and timeskips.

Yesterday was waylaid completely by an eleventh-hour invitation from Ruth to go wedding dress shopping. It began as a casual effort to go look around and then before I knew it she had found the dress and the women at the bridal store were losing their minds over it and her in it, zipping it up into a garment bag and making appointments for alterations to come as we don't have a lot of time but we have some. She wasn't sure what she wanted, even with ideas, though after trying on the dream idea it wasn't right in the end and she did a full turnaround. 

She even tried on my last actual wedding dress (the princess one) and deemed it not right which was fine as I didn't think it was either, and she talked alot about colour before we left, before finally going with a blush pink satin under cream lace. It's incredible. It's Ruth. And we are two months away from her wedding suddenly, all at once and yet every time I look at her I still see this little girl rocking out to Avril Lavigne and asking for Dunakroos. I'm almost in shock here and can't get over how fast life moves just when you think you're getting comfortable. 

My children continue to impress me with their poise and confidence. I'm envious but also so so proud.

Is it Wednesday?

 I'll be watching kpop videos today and maybe making cod and caesar salads for dinner since it's my night and probably going to bed even earlier than usual because I'm godsmackingly tired. 

Last night I had my first really weird dream on this medication, which I'm bearing with in terms of having decided I need to take it to fix a specific illness, versus it being an optional trial kind of thing. That's helping me accept the side effects and even those are slightly better than they were last week. 

But the dream. I can remember every detail. I walked up to the playground way up the hill and the mail for the whole neighborhood was laid out on the grass, everything opened but only valuable things taken, like gift cards out of birthday greetings and parcels. I stacked it all up and called for people to come out of their houses and get their mail and I gathered mine up and stuffed it into my satchel and then I was suddenly downtown and I met up with someone from work (I don't know the person or the job, actually) and she said the bus was leaving but I opened my wallet and my bus pass was cut into pieces and I told her it expired and she was like just pay cash but I didn't have any. 

I got on the bus anyway and ignored the driver as he called for me to pay and I went to the back and sat down. When I got home I lived in this tiny attic with Lochlan's mother and she had boxes stacked up everywhere and they were all addressed to me and I was trying to gather everything up and I told her I had to buy a new bus pass but my phone was dead so I would do it before work in the morning. I climbed way up into this wooden bed that was so high in the air and when I went to plug my phone in the charger was gone. I asked her if she had it and she said it was probably lost under all these boxes and so I went to sleep. 

My alarm woke me out of that, thankfully before I had to deal with figuring out who was stealing the mail and how I was going to get my new bus pass. 

Goddamn. I hate dreams like that but they're also weirdly fascinating.

Grooves in the pavement.

We're not coordinated. An early walk with Sam. An after-breakfast walk with Lochlan. A mid-morning walk with Dalton. An after-lunch walk with Benjamin and Duncan. A late afternoon walk with PJ and then after dinner Caleb asked me if I wanted to go for a walk and I had to beg off as I've already logged fifty kilometres today and I just want to stop moving. He understood and didn't feel singled out as I also had refused one from Batman earlier but damn. Why can't we just go for a group walk?