I ate a little today. I was planning on not doing so, but I can only take feeling faint and/or stomach rumbling for so long. I had actually taken a shower today, so I headed to the mall where my husband works and got my free Auntie Annie's pretzel (thanks T-mobile Tuesdays). I was too cheap to buy a drink for a few dollars, so I went to Tropical Smoothie instead and spent even more on a Sunrise Sunset smoothie. At least it had real fruit in it, but they make them too big. Anyway, after doing some window shopping (I wasn't really in the mood to shop I was still feeling weakish plus my boots are not comfortable for walking), I ended up grabbing some socks and a clearance travel cup at Macy's. Already one of the dozen socks is missing, and I haven't even worn them yet. I seriously want to rip my hair out over this. It feels like a vast universal conspiracy. Why can't even buying new socks go right?!
Now I'm in a downward spiraling mood. Took some lorazepam, not that they do anything usually. I was hoping it might knock me out though, but...here I am. I haven't heard from my dad, although when I called a few days ago he said he'd come over sometime this week to put my shoe rack together. He sounded pretty depressed on the phone--he's usually the definition of stoic--but the home my mom is at keeps calling him to come in because of her erratic behavior. If it weren't for my sisters texting, I wouldn't even know that my mom was in the hospital last week; they admitted her for barricading herself and a roommate in their room, and then thrashing out at employees. So now my dad has to consider finding somewhere else for her to stay--somewhere hopefully that is better equipped to deal with dementia patients. It sucks, because where she lives now is 10 minutes away from where my dad lives and he visits her almost daily.
My mother in law is coming in two days. I don't mind her--I actually like her for the most part, although she can be very overbearing sometimes. I just don't look forward to putting on a happy face while she's here. I can't talk to her about my problem, because it's her son. My husband is probably going to make another pitch for me putting my wedding band back on, but I'd rather take a bath in acid. I've gotten used to not wearing it besides. What's the point of wearing a tiny noose?
Hmm. Well well see how the next few days go. Will I find the missing sock, or has it disappeared to the land where my old socks, my old tablet, and various other items have banished themselves? Will the aching hole inside me start to fill itself in with something akin to contentment? Will I go on a binge that causes me to gain back ten pounds, when already my pants barely fit and I refuse to go up a size? Will I continue to feel achy and rundown making exercise futile? Like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of my life.