Fifteen days since my last entry - but there's been too much going on in my head to stop and write about it!

I'm finally in my new bachelorette pad, and totally wiped out from it all. There have been a lot of emotions involved in this move, and I suspect that they haven't all hit me just yet.

I feel guilty about leaving Scott to fend for himself, even if he is legally an adult now. I feel guilty for leaving Neo behind, because I'm the only one who loves him - and the only one he loves. I feel guilty for separating Sasha and Bam-Bam, and even guiltier for what's coming up for Sasha - having to stay alone in the apartment all day. I'll be coming home at lunch time to check on her, but it just won't be enough to keep me from feeling like an ogre.

I miss my warm waterbed terribly. It's such a shock to climb in between cold sheets - although the bed does warm up quickly, what with all the blankets and things I've managed to pile on. The only thing I'm lacking is my featherbed to put between me and the mattress, and an electric blanket to prime the sheets.

Speaking of the mattress: it ain't the greatest, but I got it for a very low price through FB. So I compensated for the quality by getting lots of comfy stuff to go on it. I'm still not used to sleeping on it - I can't seem to find the right position that allows me to relax totally. Of course, combined with the quietness of the apartment, and the various new sounds I'm not yet able to tune out, it's no surprise I feel like I'm not really getting any rest.

There's the dropping of cubes from the icemaker. The kicking on and off of the A/C. The sound of the toilet running now and then - is that just when my downstairs neighbor flushes, or do I need to have it checked out?

Then there's the good sound of the fountain from the pool - I can hear it right now, as I sit in my dining room, which is actually now the computer room, I suppose. The window is open just so I can enjoy the sound of the water - probably not too cost efficient since the air conditioner is also on, but I really need to hear it at the moment.

I spent the better part of yesterday on the balcony, smoking and reading the Sunday paper - something I have not done in ages. But I really had no choice, you see. My telephone jacks were not working, which meant no Internet!! Horrible, I tell you - just horrible!

And as it turns out, there's a problem with the wiring, and only the jack in the computer room is functional. Which isn't too bad really, since I use my cel phone as my "real" phone. But the service was turned on last Tuesday, and I totally expected to spend Saturday night online. I was freaking out all weekend without my computer fix, and didn't get it until this afternoon about 1:00 p.m.

With no computer and no TV, I almost went stir crazy. Finally I went to Winn Dixie for a few groceries and the paper. I also picked up some windchimes and a bottle of Strawberry White Zinfandel.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a screwhook with which to hang the windchimes on my balcony, so for now, they're hanging from the chandlier above me. They have the most perfect tinkling sound whenever I reach up and graze my fingers over them. =)

Tonight I went to Rosati's and picked up Fettucine Alfredo for dinner. Perfect to go with the White Zin (even if it's in a tumbler instead of a wine glass). As I swirl the Zin over my tongue, I'm almost tempted to become a lush, hehe. It most certainly will help me sleep better tonight.

Work tomorrow promises to be a bitch. I was already swamped on Thursday when I left, and I know things have piled up in my short absence. It occurs to me that once I'm settled in my new place, I may be forced to start seeking new employment as well. I so hate change, but I also need to face the fact that I have valuable skills and talents which are being wasted.

But with the job market as it is, I don't know what luck I will have. I need to contact the recruiter who placed me at a previous job and let her know I'm looking. At least she can keep me in mind now that we're both in the North Dallas area. I'm in no real rush, but the workload is going to get heavier and heavier before they'll even hire someone else to help me. (Meanwhile, they keep hiring VPs and other high-level staff left and right, sigh.)

The Ex broke his hand. He told me so on the phone the other day when he called to ask me some questions about his taxes.

We talked about what had made him angry enough to punch a wall and break his hand (a frustrating conversation with The Live-In).

Actually, first he asked me if I thought he was passive-aggressive. I thought about it for a minute or two, then said yes, in some ways, I believed he was. He said The Live-In had been reading some books. "You know, Men Are From Mars." Then I said I believed she was also passive-aggressive (though I really didn't go into why I feel that way about her).

He started telling me about some things that had been happening lately in their relationship, and I found myself giving him some advice. Not surprisingly, I'm also a source of disagreement for them. While I can sympathize with the difficulty she probably has raising my children with little help from me, on the other hand, I don't feel too much guilt about it. After all, this woman got involved with my husband when he was still married to me. She played a part in bringing about the situation she is in now. Her resentment is unfortunate, but I'm not about to lose any sleep over it.

Anyway, when the conversation ended, I was again surprised by what a pair of ex-spouses we are. It took many years after their respective divorces for our parents to speak civilly to each other, and I still can't imagine them having the kind of relationship we do now.

It's very weird - but not that strange perhaps after all. The Ex was my absolute best friend for the better part of fifteen years. Not a best friend in the sense that another woman would be, but in the sense of someone you become close to simply by living, loving, and fighting together.

It's hard to explain, really. I love him because he was my husband and companion for so very long, and I'm protective of him to the degree that I would hate to see him hurt by this woman.

It's almost as though we are still married, but I'm just giving him permission to live with someone else. How bizarre is that?

When I was about 9 or so, my cousin Lori and I were talking to my dad about how we were going to grow up and have babies. I mentioned to my father (who had no sons to carry on "the family name") that I would have a son to carry on the name for him.

He questioned how I was going to achieve that: "Your husband will want the baby to have his last name."

I replied, "Then I won't get married!"

About seven years later, I gave birth to a son out of wedlock, thus ensuring the continuance of my father's name.

My mother was over Saturday helping with the move. She looked around the apartment and remarked: "Well, you always said one day you'd live alone in a one bedroom apartment with a little dog to keep you company."

I was surprised. I never realized that I had voiced that particular vision to her. Yet, not only had she remembered the prediction, but it had also come true.

Isn't it funny how the things we say innocently somehow come to pass?