It's Later

They're gone now.

William, too. He left to go to a friend's house.

But Lizzie and two friends are here, so I'm still in the positive as far as people. Oh, and my mother's here, as well. In fact, there're so many people in the house, there's no place left for an insomniac to go. Which is too bad, really, because we have three movies from Blockbuster that are late and I'd like to at least see one of them before I finally give up and take them back. But there are three girls upstairs asleep and my mother is asleep on the living room couch.

I think William had a good birthday, although it's hard to tell sometimes with him whether he's having fun or not. It's really hard when he has friends over and he's trying to impress them. He's easily embarrassed by his goofy family. Hopefully he had a good time, though. Can you believe, he's 16? I can't. Doesn't seem possible.

Oh well, I know this isn't much of an update, but this is all I can do right now. There's a lot to say about Grandma--she hasn't done anything major lately, thank goodness, it's the day to day habits and her obsessive-compulsiveness that's driving me insane--but I think I'd rather go read the newspaper (if it's here yet, gotta go check on that).

And maybe I can get some sleep eventually. It sucks being an insomniac. Especially on the weekends!

Checking In

It's 6:30. Ish. 6:30-ish. In roughly 1/2 hour I will have my entire family here. Oooo, there's Dad and Carol now.

We're celebrating William's 16th birthday (which technically occurred last week on the 20th).

I thought I'd have some time to update the blog before they got here, but it doesn't look like it's gonna work out that way.

Oh well, I'll be back later.

Sleepless, again

I woke up at 4:21 a.m. I'd been having a bad dream: Something about Donald going camping with his girlfriend and William was there and things were just all of out sorts.

Sort of like life is right now.

Between the new job, class and homework, conflicts involving Billy, and the usual Grandma stuff (she's lonely, she's miserable, where are we going?, when will we be back?, we never take her anywhere, etc.), life seems rather. . .messy these days.

But I guess that's, well, life. Right?

Truth be told, one of the things that is bothering me the most (Billy not included) is the state of my yard. I know, I know, the yard should be the least of my worries. But the former home owners did not invest in the yard, and it shows. It's awful! There's no grass. None. Just weeds. And the beds and plantings that they did do, well, they're currently out of control and the weeds are taking them over, as well. I've called no less than four landscape companies. They keep giving me the run around. They'll get me quotes, start work in two weeks, no problem. But then I don't hear back from them. I know that it's their busy season but geez, you'd think that someone would want the work.

We're (Donald and I) supposed to get outside today and do what we can out there, but hey, I've only had about four hours of sleep, I have an exam to finish (advanced accounting--ickypoo), and someone, at some time today, needs to go grocery shopping. Soooo, I have my doubts about how much yard work will get done. Meanwhile, it's painful for me to even look out of the windows. We have the worst yard in the neighborhood. I mean The Worst. It's truly awful. I should get up right now and go out there and start working. Or at least light a match to it. That's really what it needs.

Too bad it rained yesterday.

It's crazy that a yard should make me feel so crazy, so out of control.

But I guess that's it, isn't it?

The yard is physical proof that I am feeling crazy and out of control. And I can't have the neighbors knowing things like that about me! Having a messy yard in the suburbs, it's the modern day equivalent to airing dirty laundry. You just don't do it. People will talk. They'll. . .know.

*Shiver*

So no matter what else I do today, I will go work in the yard. I must put that thing in its place. Conquer it. Control it. Show my neighbors (myself) that I'm competent, that I know how to manage my yard (life).

But first I need to try and catch a small nap.

And then I'll go out there.

Not sure what to say. . .

How's it going, you ask.

Well, it's going.

Life since moving into the new place is pretty much like life prior to moving into the new place, except that there's more space to try and keep clean and more storage room to hide junk.

But seriously, I love the house. I love its spaciousness and its airiness and all the windows and light that flows in. I love the dishwasher. And the garage. And the choice of bathrooms.

I'd love it even more if I could find some time to actually be here.

I know, that'll change one of these days. One day too soon the kids will be grown and gone and I'll have nothing but house and time. But still, I can't help but wish I had more time to devote to just being at home. Now. While the kids are inhabiting the spaces, before this phase of my life is over.

Although. . .

I have to admit, just being at home is not the pleasurable experience that it used to be because, well, Grandma is here.

It's difficult for me to explain the impact she's having on me, on my life. On the one hand, it's very minimal because the time I spend at the house engaged with her is minimal simply due to the demands of work and kids and life. On the other hand, though, I catch myself consciously trying to minimize opportunities where the two of us have no choice but to interact.

It's hard to put it into words. . .

To be completely honest, I would like it better if Grandma were not here. Dealing with her--her infirmities, her irritating habits, her indifference to other's needs and wants--is difficult for me. And it's true that her presence in my home is affecting my desire to be involved in my home. And this is concerning to me.

I don't want to dread coming home. But sometimes I do, these days. But why? What is it that she's doing?

It's not just one thing. That's the problem. It's a series of things. And some of them she just can't help, I know.

Donald has a much better outlook on it than I do. She's so fortunate that he's here.

Oh well, I'm sleepy. And simply too tired and irritated to go into this too much tonight. I'll just get all depressed and whiny if I keep this up and who wants to read that crap?

So until next time. . .

G'night.