I put off coming home for as long as possible last night. Not that it really did me any good. The house was still a disaster, my bedroom was still empty. Empty of both husband and furniture. I slept on the floor. I think I’m too old to sleep on the floor, actually. But I bought a new bed, which Ikea will deliver on Sunday sometime. And eventually, I can clean my house into being a little retreat that is all mine. I won’t always wake up feeling like throwing up, right?
So on the up side: I didn’t cry myself to sleep. I have friends that love me very much.
On the down side: I’m terrified. Truly terrified. I’m going to turn into the crazy dog lady or something. Maybe I’m a little young to be worried about that, but there you go.
And the list of things to do goes like this: clean bedroom to get it ready for new furniture. Buy incense and walk around waving it to clear the air. (Yes, I know. I’ve got one or two fruity habits. I’ve had to give up the incense because limbo land hubby doesn’t like it.) Go buy a new matress pad and wash it. Laundry. I’ll deal with the rest of the house tomorrow, at least until my bed comes.
So, let’s see if I can get through today with out sobbing or puking. Everything after that is gravy.