The Quick Version

~I'm in the process of preparing myself to get all my mental issues checked out, with the possibility of getting medicated.

~There's definite danger of random strangers on the street or at the mall suffering the repercussions of my head exploding.

~Dear, dear banes of my existence...I'm working on getting us out from under your feet, on our own. Things around here are far too difficult for me to be able to deal with them for any great length of time. I need better organization, less disastrous mess. I wanna be able to wash my own clothes (when I wanna do it), scrub my own floors, cook on my own stove, use my little hot pink Dirt Devil to suck up my own dirt, put our clothes away in our own closets, and store my plates in my my own cabinets. I think it's time to quit, and plan a whole separate post on this topic for a different day.

~We have errands to complete. Not to mention a letter to write to set things in motion. Also, we need to get "US" back on track. I'm tired of feeling like I'm losing you.

~I know we don't come visit often enough. I'm trying to change that whole situation, things are just really complicated around here. I make no promises, obviously, but I fully intend to provide all parties with far more frequent visits. Especially with the possibility of us moving away looming on the horizon.

~Y'know what I'm currently trying to accomplish for you? The far more toddler-friendly living environment you both deserve. Some semblance of normalcy and typical family life - perhaps military family life, but a life all on our own as just the four of us. Why, you ask? Because it'll be way better that way. (And? Mommy really needs her own effing space already!!)

~Because the situations necessitate that I may have a need for an animal free space and/or the occasional break, we'll probably be seeing much more of each other. And, just for the record, I greatly appreciate you making your space our space.

~Blanket statement...I'm not totally stable lately, so please don't take my reactions completely to heart as they are not at all a guarantee of the reality of my emotions. The first thing out of my mouth is not always the real answer.

And now that I'm not even making sense to myself, it's time to say "Goodnight, Lucy" and call it a day. Or a night, as the case may be. Hopefully I'll be able to re-find my train of thought. We'll see about that later, though.