He'll get custody. As long as he's not a crack addict who's homeless without a job...those are the things he has to prove now and then the multi-million dollar baby is his.
Right now I sort of want to crawl into a tight space and cry. I am trapped in my house. T decided to turn our house into his office this summer to save money. So instead of conducting meetings, trainings, mail distribution, etc...in another place, it is happening at our house. Every day. Here's what this means for me:
no access to my kitchen while they're here
i come home to five cars crowding my driveway
no tv access
two rows of chairs where my kitchen table used to be
a huge white board blocking my way to the front door
my garage full of chairs, paperwork, huge maps of the city
working all day and coming home...to this
For some reason it's really upsetting me right now. I know T knows I hate it, but he's trying to save a six month lease on another space. So I think I'll just leave even though I'm tired and just want to watch Ellen.
I rarely answer my phone. I do have days like that. You feel like you don't want a conversation about anything. And sometimes, it's better to just let voicemail pick up so you can hear the reason they called and evaluate whether or not it's important enough to HAVE a conversation.
I'm like that about the mail, too. I think it's denial, but there are times when I let the mail sit and sit and sit because I don't want to read bank statements or newsletters for teachers. Sometimes I open just the bills and the rest stays in a pile that I stare at for weeks.
Does anyone read our blogs? Probably not. Maybe we need more pictures, but not of leftovers.
People in people.com that I don't care about:
Avril Lavigne
Beyonce
Kate Moss
Ashlee Simpson
any of the Desparate Housewives
I need to get out of this house.
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