A Kilo Is A Thousand Grams

I've been feeling a little bit out of sorts this week. I think that it's because I haven't been sleeping too well. I've got that feeling again too. You know, the one, where you want to get really fucked up and not give a shit anymore. I don't know if reading A Million Little Pieces had something to do with this. It might be the dreams that I've been having. I keep having dreams with my Mother in them, and they're kind of disturbing. Not like freaky weird shit happening all the time. They're just everyday situations and my Mum is in them. And then I wake up. And then I remember that she's not around anymore. And that sucks.

So this week has kind of sucked. I might need to get it out of my system. I don't know if I've got a chance this weekend. I'm going to a show tonight, a band called the Volty Strings. I don't know what sort of music they play, but I'm ready for it. Tomorrow night I'm heading up to Angus and Michael's place to watch the fireworks display, Riverfire. It should be fantastic. The view from up there is spectacular even without the fireworks, so I can only imagine how good it'll be. I might shit my pants.

Work this week has been pretty tiring. Whenever it rains the kids go feral. I guess it's because they have all this energy to use up, and they're not able to because they're locked inside all day. I understand how they feel. Sometimes you just want to run and yell. Rushing and rolling and reeling. Maybe that's just me?

Workwise I'm looking forward to next week because Kapila is back from New York. As good as the relief are, it's nice to have the old one two combination in there. Plus she's a whizz in the kitchen.

I think one of the other reasons I'm feeling a little bit funny is that I've been informed about the rule of three. Apparently with grief, it sometimes works out like this. The first couple of days are disbelief, and then on the third it hits. Then things settle down for a while and life goes on and then at three weeks you realise again that there's something not right. Then life rolls on again, and things get back to normal and then you're three months up and you realise again. This weekend is the third weekend. 3 Sundays ago my mother died and I was there. The Sundays since then I've been watching the clock tick down to 12:55. I look at where I am on that day, and then I look at what I'm doing then. It's a little unnerving.

So yeah, I guess at the moment I'm kind of dreading this weekend. I don't really know what's going to happen. These dreams have been upsetting me. I don't want to feel sad again, but I'm scared that I am.