Inarticulate

Scott's uncle died three days ago. We just found out this morning. In one of my CHD support groups, another couple just lost a child. Scott hadn't seen his uncle since he was a little kid, and the CHD family are friends of a friend, so I have never spoken to either of them. And yet, in some abstract way, both losses feel personal. In actuality, I suppose it's just that news of those deaths just serve as reminders, but in any case, I'm in a slump today. I haven't worked at all on my CHD financial aid list. Dinner is already cooking, the bathroom is sparkling clean, I've done 4 loads of laundry, and dusted the livingroom.

I've also spent much time in this chair staring at a blank screen because today is one of those words-won't-suffice sorts of days, a day when there seems like a lot to say, and no way to articulate it. Even the least important things feel heavy with undue significance. My head hurts, and I don't know if it's my sinuses protesting the promise of thunderstorms (most likely) or the weight of this funk.

Three Days Grace and Staind are playing a free concert at Speed Week in Uptown Charlotte tonight. We're supposed to go. It doesn't matter to me whether we do or not to be honest. If I go, I probably won't enjoy it. If I don't go, I'll kick myself in the ass for missing it. For now though, I could care less.


Well, kids want me, dinner needs me and the laundry won't finish itself.