Tying a Knot

I am about at the end of my rope, people.  I want to run away from home.  I want to get roaring drunk.  I want to...I don't know.  I am momentarily deficient in imagination.  So if you don't want to hear me whinge, hit the little "X" in the corner.

Between Jason Young getting a hung jury, and that bitch in Florida getting acquitted, the news holds no solace, and my own life is currently a disaster.  I can cope with one of my children feeling down, but right now, two of them are feeling really low.

Work is a nightmare.  Two weeks to finish "The Wizard of Oz," and about a month's worth of work to be done.  Boss is getting testy, and it is so hot in there.  I don't work well at either extreme of temperature, and today I was crying as I crawled around on a concrete floor, bruising my knees and raising a scissors blister cutting out dozens of pattern pieces for crows feet and beaks.  The crows, by the way, are going to be truly awesome.  I never tire of Ramona's creativity; I do, however, tire of the heat.

After the cutting was done, there was a dress that needed a plethora of silver sequins and beads removed from around the neck.  Of course, they are attached with monofilament--not the flimsy stuff that breaks when you breathe on it, either.  No.  These beads and sequins are put on there to survive Armageddon!  So my left hand now has sequin and monofilament cuts, my right hand has scissors blisters and my knees are bruised.  I am not a happy camper.

On top of that, Vanessa's ex is ignoring requests to help her move.  Her best friend is conveniently out of town.

I am 62 freaking years old.  I am too old for this shit.  I don't want to have to deal with any of this.

Oh...that is the other thing.  It seems I can't collect my husband's Social Security.  Nope.  Have to be married ten years for that.  As I have been chronically underemployed all my life, I shall have to work until I'm 70, and still will have less than $1000 a month.  All those years I was a stay-at-home mom, and the ones I spent cleaning houses and the time I spent looking after Addy...none of that paid anything into Social Security.

So once again, THANKS, JIM!

Fuck.  Just, fuck.