I’m still not writing, and I’m still busier than a kitten on ‘nip.  My brother spent all last week here, taking the couch I’ve been sleeping on, so I was shunted to the floor.  I get to do it again at least part of next week when he comes back.

I’m not allowed in my father’s apartment.  Apparently, it’s a huge mess, and between my asthma and my migraines I’d be an utter mess.  Which, honestly, I’m okay with that; I would probably have flashbacks, walking into the kitchen.  That was the scene of the fight that caused me to leave in the first place.

I can’t promise I’ll be around more; I’m barely writing as it is, and I’m pretty emotionally constipated at the moment.  I need to do some journaling, but it’s not coming very easily, and I don’t really have the privacy to write the way I need to.  It’ll come, even if I have to get a hotel room to myself for a night when I get my share of the inheritance.  I might ship my mother to my aunt’s alone this coming weekend.  I’m not certain.

And to think, when she was in the hospital getting her hip replaced, I was desperately lonely.  Now I’m so peopled out I can barely think.  Funny how it works.

In other news, I have been invited to write for a blog!  It is called Dakka Dakka Dakka, and is a blog written by four female writers. I’m honored to be a part of it, and I hope to have my first post up by Friday.