Spicy Dragons & Dinosaurs

The uncertainty is ever present. I finished writing for the evening, watched an episode of an old British mini-series, Behaving Badly (1989) with Judi Dench, and yawning after this full day, turned out the light and turned over to go to sleep. Assuming that I could do so without interference or difficulty. But, as I snuggled down, I felt a bit of damp and then realized that Julia had peed in my bed.

And so, an hour later, she is tucked up in her own bed, peacefully sleeping. My bed is stripped and tomorrow I will have to wash not only sheets and mattress cover but the quilt and duvet cover that was soaked.

" . . . The question of self-pity." ~Joan Didion.

I am right there. Back against the wall.

What is this? Is there a why? Does it matter? Will anything ever resolve? I lay in Julia's single bed with her and conjure up all sorts of scary plot lines for the future.

I've written it before. I have no resilience.

And I cannot sleep now. It is too late. We have therapy at 8. I have a headache. And I cannot sleep in my bed. I laid with Julia for awhile and then gave up, got up, put on sweats, took some tylenol, planted myself in my favorite chair, and I am now hoping for the best. Sleep after this writing and a bit of reading, and praying fervently that this is a passing phase.