June and the Dehydrated Prune

Got my kid's evals in the mail today. Not good. The diagnosis, of course is that she is on the autistic spectrum. But worse than that, she is not functioning anywhere near the so-called normal range in IQ for her age. I am going to have to become an pseudo expert on yet another topic (or eight). This undertaking is my priority, however.

At this moment, I am pretty down because I really feel like we are not working on this together. Case in point, he's at a party for a 28 year old. What annoys me too, is that I spend all my time on the internet looking in vain for an apartment in a city where I don't want to live. He doesn't look for apartments but rather refers all leads to me. So I am looking for apartments, figuring out what to do for the kid, setting up all the appointments for the schools, doctors, specialists, etc., writing another fucking business plan, researching all the possibilities on how to change the outcome of her biochemistry (that's no walk in the park), taking care of the kids, trying to keep two rooms of the apartment livable, going to class (which is my only social outlet–haven't been to any kind of festivity since Melodie's art opening the day before my daughter's birthday), getting ready to build this business in which case I will go viral or go postal, and wondering if any miracles are being parceled out among the human population (certainly not in most parts of the world and certainly not in Louisianna/Gulf of Mexico), and if so, could I have one please?

Yet, I have always figured that to survive I have to do it on my terms. I want to get a job now, but I'll be damned if I can't seem to find one. So the stakes get higher, because it is now time for me to put my virtual money where my mouth is and start my astrology business. Officially, I will begin to teach astrology...

It's a boiling 80 something degrees at 11:30 at night. I hate muggy summer weather. The fan is drying my contact lenses out and I am constantly getting dehydrated. Conversely, my skin is constantly wet and oily. Speaking of which, I hope the soap I made the other night isn't caustic...

Alright, got my gripes out. It's time to move on. I will get through this by controlling the thoughts in my mind.