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But recently it seems I’ve been doing a lot of it.

Like, more of it than usual.

Today I cried.

A lot.

Because of one little thing.


Tonight at church, we had so few Junior High students that YP decided we were going to go to McDonald’s.

His treat.

Which was great, because I hadn’t had a chance to eat.

See, I got snowed in.

And by the time I got snow-blower-ed out of the driveway (by two very nice neighbors), it was time for me to leave. And while they were moving snow, it was too early to eat.

So, I was happy that we ended up eating. YP gave us a limit of $5 each (because, you know, we’re six other people) and I ended up getting a Mighty Kids Meal. 😀


We came back from McD’s just in time to hang for a little while before it was time for music.

And I was running screen for music, so I hauled all of my stuff (which I hadn’t needed) upstairs with me.

Screen went fine.

Then came the crap.

I couldn’t find my keys.


I checked my car in case I’d left them in there; I checked the floor; I checked the bathroom even though I hadn’t brought them in with me; I checked under stuff…

I could not. find. my. keys.

And I was ticked.

Because, you know, I need keys to get around.

So I called my house, hoping my parents had the spare set around somewhere.

No answer.

Called again.

No answer.

Texted K, who replied that I should look in the super obvious places.

Searched some more.

Called home again.

FINALLY, an answer.

I explained, almost in tears, that I couldn’t find my keys.

Mom said she’d come bring me the extras.

Went out searching a little more, just in case.

Mom showed up with the spare.

Just as she was leaving and I was about the pull out, a group of boys comes waltzing (not literally) out of the church, getting into their cars.

I get out of my car, thinking maybe I can check the youth room one more time.

Ask if they’re done.

“We’re going to have small group time at Dairy Queen.”

Practically SPRINT back inside and to the youth room, where I explain quickly to YP that I still can’t find my keys and my mom gave me the spare.

Look down.


In a crevice between some boxes.

Of all places.


“You win,” says YP.

Go home to cry on Mom’s shoulder.

Stay a while and sit with Mom & Dad while they watch TV.

Continue crying on & off.

Decide I need to leave, because I’m house-sitting for friends and the dog is going to need to pee.

Get back into car.

Hold back tears all the way “home.”

Let the dog out.

And now I’m sitting in a chair, typing this and wishing that I wasn’t a girl.

Because I’m super-sensitive.

But I’m also super-stressed, I think. I’m ready for school to just be over already.

What is sweet about this situation is that the dog will not leave my side.

He already wants to be near me all the time (I think he has separation anxiety…), but I’ve always heard that dogs read emotions and stuff.

I’m guessing that’s true, because the dog is stuck like glue to me more than he has been in the last few days.


That’s the slight drama filling my life right now.

While I was at home sitting with Mom, a commercial for something came on and I remembered, “Oh. I have a paper due tomorrow.”

Gr. I have a lot of it typed. I can email it to the prof tomorrow.

And I work tomorrow and Friday nights, plus all day Saturday.

Wah. Life, why are you so full??

Also, I cried because I’m homesick.

And I started crying while typing that sentence.

I feel really lame.

But that’s how I am.

I’m a homebody.

I like to be in familiar places, with familiar people.

I’m okay by myself for a few hours, but overnight… No thanks. And here I am in this house by myself overnight… Ack.


Ramble much?

I need to stop typing because  keyboard hates me.