I didn’t run this morning because it’s pouring out there and I’m just not up for a soak today. No big deal, though, I don’t need running as an anti-depressant on this fine day because my to-do list says it’s Liberty’s homeschool art class day, which means I get to sit in a coffee shop with other homeschool moms for, like, an hour and fifteen minutes. Wheeeee! That’s cool, but next on my list, with a priority level of A2 (only slightly less important than voting which is written 3rd, but prioritized at A1): Wash lettuce. What in the hell kind of life do I have where I need to write “wash lettuce” on my to-do list? And now I’m depressed. I guess it would have been better if I hadn’t written it in my planner and had it staring at me and acting all urgent and important like I don’t have other more important things going on. I know I wrote it down because it is something that, if I don’t do it this morning, by the time I’m making lunch, I’ll feel too busy to do it and then we’ll all eat ice cream or something like that. I don’t write all the little household things I have to do all day long on the list, and now I know why. I can be in denial if I don’t write things like “laundry” and “toilets” and “feed the children again and again and again” and “fill up the little black holes of need with motherly love and affection until you have nothing left for yourself and you’re just an empty shell of a person who once lived, but no longer lives, and keep filling even though you realize that it will never be enough and whatever ruin they come to in life will be blamed on you for not giving them enough of you no matter how much you gave, because they are mother effin’ black holes of need.” That would be ridiculous. The lines are too small.

*sigh* I have to go wash the lettuce now.

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