I've been missing. Sorry. I wasn't hospitalized. Or dead. Or even kidnapped and held for ransom in some very small, hot and dirty room. No I was here. Muddling through my days. Not blogging.
I've had a lot going on. Last week was my Lilybugs week. I've talked about that before, yes? Yes. Giant consignment sale of doom. This was my first sale ever where I made more than I spent. I'm pretty psyched about that. It's a big deal for me. I bought clothes and shoes and a puzzle because I always try to come home with something fun.
Then, there's the other thing. The thing I haven't been talking about. The elephant in the room. You see, this is my home and this is where I talk about stuff. I have a sense of privacy and I don't tell you all every little weensie detail of my life, but I hit the high points. And the low ones. I share, is what I'm saying. I treat you all like my very best girlfriends (even, and possibly especially) those of you who are guys.
So, when there's something big and I'm not ready to talk about it, I tend to tune out. Because to come here and every day and talk about something - anything - that's not the giant thing on my mind feels like lying. Which is sort of ridiculous, but also sort of true.
On the one hand, as the grand queen of everything in this space, I can do what I want. Plus, it's writing and you don't ever have to write anything.
On the other hand, it seems incredibly disingenuous to continue on, la-di-da, like nothing big is going on in my life.
So, I just shut up. It wasn't even on purpose. I spent all of last week getting ready to write. Coming up with things to write. Thinking about writing. And then not writing.
(Yesterday I had a tooth yanked out of my head. There was massive crying, pain pills and I learned that where my teeth are concerned, I am a giant wuss. I'm telling you this because last week I was a horrible person, but you've got to give me a tooth-induced by on yesterday's miss.)
And even today, here it is 4:30 and I still haven't decided what I am and am not going to say in this here post - the one that I am writing even now. Sharing is hard. Especially when it involves other people. Especially when it's personal. Especially when you don't really want to talk about it. And all three - oh my.
So, here goes. Simplest terms. The husband hasn't been home in a month. I don't know what that means or what's going happen. I have no plan other than get by and take care of myself and my girls. I am okay. Let me repeat that last part: I am okay. I am not angry or terribly hurt or collapsing in a sea of grief. I am okay. You shouldn't worry about me. I just felt like you should know, that's all.