finding journal moments

Thank you, mad secretary.  Your encouragement means a great deal.  I was thinking today, when I had time to think about something, about what the journal means to me.

I am anxious to get back to my own living space... not just because it is cleaner and less cluttered now but because it affords me the convenience of journaling whenever I bloody well want to and I don't have to steal the time at work to religiously read Judi's almost daily installment.

It's hard to be clear about what you mean to say when you are trying to type around 4 in the morning because that's when you are the least likely to interfere with everyone else's needs.  I've lost at least two and probably more entries that I was working on because I fell back asleep.

At least when I fall asleep with the computer on at my house, it doesn't matter because it only affects me.

It's close to 11 now and Dad is on his computer and watching TV in the office, my step-mom is in the Florida room watching TV, my step-brother is in his room next door and the bass of his stereo is pounding, about as lightly as it can, through the wall.

Back at my house, a single fan is pushing air from east to west and the light timer has clicked off.  It's quiet, unless a train is humming through town.  And there are more stars visible overhead.

The night after Hurricane Wilma passed, the city sky was clear and bright from sun bounced off of stars.  I was glad that the dogs stirred to be let outside in the early hours.  I would have missed the sight.

I am anxious to go home.  I want my cat to have the freedom of the whole house and the luxury of her sunny spot by one of the front windows.

The garbage men come today.  I am waiting to see how much they take away.

I hope someone comes and puts in my water system soon.  I've been here at Dad's quite a while. No one seems to mind... it's not like I'm here most of the time.  And they seem to be enjoying having my cat playing upstairs during the day.  She likes to visit my step-brother when he's on his computer and hops onto the sink when my Dad is in his bathroom.

Chances are good that my step-mom lets her onto the screened balcony as well.

But I need to go "home."  Well, heck, I'm paying full rent....

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