Right from the moment I awoke, it started. In a half-sleepy daze my sister informs me that Irish pee’d on the shower mat downstairs. Lovely. Not sure what happened there, since I let her out before I went to bed, as always. My sister did give her credit though for having the intelligence to pee on the rubber backed mat, opposed to the expensive cork flooring.
Later that morning, as the house was becoming a humid hot-house, this lovely breeze picked up from the west. I decided to open up the front west window in the living-room, as that window would bring that wonderful breeze right into the house. It worked too, as the indoor temperature went down 2 degrees. As I was sitting here at the computer reading the newspaper headlines … CRASH, BANG !!!!?? HOLY COW BATMAN, what was that???
What that was is our Mom’s favourite lamp being smashed to smithereens by the window as it fell on it. It was this gorgeous porcelain green lamp, with this big black shade, and now it was lying in millions of pieces all over the table and the antique wing-backed chair beside it. Took me almost an hour to clean it up. I guess that window was broken. I don’t recall ever being told that. But, frankly, my memory this last year has been a fuddled, confused mess.
Then my sister calls, and stupid moron that I am, tell her about the lamp over the phone. Now, I was upset, however I shouldn’t have told her while she was at work. It could have waited. When she got home she was much saner, but quite frankly I know that we both spent the day struggling with this. I could have spared at least her that, and taken the full brunt once she got home. Wish I had, but what’s done is done.
All afternoon I worried away at the guilt of indirectly being responsible for breaking that lamp. Of course once the old sis got home I received all the proper ridicule that was due. And then there was the prerequisite critique on my life choices, which was ever so helpful.
I just have to grin and bare it. She is perfectly within her rights to feel how she does. Right or wrong though, what’s done is done, and I’m not seeing any benefit now to crying any longer over the spilled milk that has become my life. As I said to her, all I can do now is to move forward and try my best, continue to meet new people and try new things, to keep writing, to keep taking photos and pound the job pavement and just have faith that it will all work out. Can I do anything more?
I’m not terribly strong right now, I can only do so much. Getting a job and a place of my own is my focus. Worrying about all the other myriad of other things on that list right now is just too overwhelming.
The conclusion I’ve come to lately is, that I can not control what people think, what they feel, or whether or not they understand. I don’t expect anyone to understand. It’s fine what they think. I have no control over other people.
Spent parts of yesterday afternoon giving myself the “you are good enough, strong enough” and yadda yadda yadda, pep talk. Today all I can do is my best, and hope I can avoid breaking more lamps, and perhaps Irish could NOT pee in the house. Please? Pretty Please???? Ughhh