Wednesday, June 14, 2006


Today, dear readers, is not a Good Day. It was going fine at work (GOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL!), and then I came home. I fired off an email, and then . . . I fell apart. i've been doing that periodically for about four hours now, and I'm really fucking tired of it. I pack some shit, and then I find, oh, how about the baseball salt and pepper shakers that Dave saw once while killing time waiting for a repair and got for me because he knows I love baseball? (They came with a barbecue fork and something, with handles shaped like bats; I packed those on Sunday.) Or how about the napkin holder he made in Boy Scouts, of his eight-year-old (or so) hands? Or how about the emptiness of the cabinets in the kitchen? Or how about the boxes piled in the rooms we once shared, the boxes we've packed separately, making sure our stuff isn't intermingled any more? I'm just really, really sad; my face keeps leaking all over the damned place. I realized that yoga wasn't really an option tonight--there's a limit to what I'm willing to display. (I realize that I'm putting it out here for you guys, but that is so not the same thing.) I'm sad for Dave, too, because I know he's aching every bit as much as I am.

In less depressing/ed commentary, I found one of my pedometers while I was packing desk shit (my smoking cessation friend gave me a couple), and I threw it in my pocket today to see what would happen. By the time I got home from work, I'd logged over 12,000 steps, and I probably added a bunch more packing boxes.

I keep thinking I'm nearly done packing--and I am, really, all things considered--and then I see a little pile of something I haven't dealt with yet. I'd hoped to have it all done tonight, every last bit, but I think that's not going to happen. I think I'm going to make some dinner (finish the last of the broccoli) and have a glass of wine and go to bed. The crap will still be here tomorrow.


Anonymous Larry Jones said...

We only know what we read here, but you've been uncannily buttoned-down about most of this. I think it's about time for some leaking. A marriage ending and farewell to a home - who wouldn't be vulnerable to strong emotions? Throw in some baseball memorabilia, and it's a recipe for falling apart.

I hope you get as undone as possible, and back together right again.

12:03 AM  
Blogger Emma Goldman said...

Oh, there's been plenty of leaking, trust me, and there was even more last night as Dave and I talked on the phone. I should buy stock in Seventh Generation.

5:04 AM  
Anonymous Dave, not Craw said...

My eyes are nearly swollen shut today, Em. If it weren't for this medication I'm taking, I doubt I'd have slept a wink. Now it's time for me to drive my sister's van to the apartment and move the rest of my stuff out; then, that's it, we're officially split up. I'd give ANYTHING if I could go back in time and change things... but I can't. And I have no idea how to go forward with this. I'm lost in the woods, and I just found out that the compass I've been using my whole life is broken.

6:43 AM  
Blogger kStyle said...

Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I sent an email with a rather sarcastic aside about a company VP, which inadvertently got forwarded alllll the waaaay up the chain to the company's president and COO. Ha ha!

12:39 PM  
Blogger kStyle said...

Not that this compares with the troubles you all are having--but sometimes misery loves stooopid company.

12:40 PM  

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