It's Monday

For the briefest time - before the world flipped over - I got a tiny taste of happiness, a glimpse of hope, a dream for a future. He knew me. He knew how hard it was for me to be vulnerable again. He knew that I lived in terror of the day that I should lose him. I don't know how this could happen. None of this is right at all. This would all make a lot more sense to me if I were to look in the mirror and find myself sporting a curly mustache.

"Oh, what fresh hell is this?"

I worked. It did keep me busy. I had the extra work of the other two papers, as well as my usual extras for Monday and some special requests from the peanut gallery. I got it all done cleanly and efficiently. And I still broke down and cried five separate times before noon. (I specifically kept track - 'cos it seemed like a lot lately. He must take some joy in knowing he wields such power.)

I ate some. It sits like a lump, but it sits. I napped in the middle of the day. I usually can't do that, but sleep is so much easier. The sky has turned a strange color. I hope there's a storm coming. Something really big. I doubt it though. I checked the radar. A tiny system passed just to the north, and the forecast doesn't have anything until tomorrow.

I thought I just heard a distant rumble of thunder. Probably just wishful thinking. On the plus side, I've gone nine solid hours with dry cheeks. I think that's a record.