Among some of the characters that live in AuSable Forks about five miles up the road from here, there's one woman who's particularly disturbing to me. She looks to be about my age - maybe mid to late 30s - and whenever we see her walking around town, she's got a huge "hat" made of plastic bags strapped to her head and tied under her chin with a black strap.
We see her talking to herself as she walks up and down the street, and more often than not, she's got this look on her face like she's recoiling from something particularly odious and offensive. Once, she stood in line behind Tom at the grocery store in AuSable Forks, and Tom said she was hissing and making menacing sounds under her breath the entire time.
He came back to the car, more than a little shaken up.
I wonder about this woman when I see her. I wonder what her story is, and I wish that there were some way for her to access the mental health services she so obviously needs. Is there someone who takes care of her and looks out for her? Is she actually a caretaker for an elderly parent or relative?
Sometimes, though, I feel like I'm one step away from becoming just like her, and walking up and down Main Street with a ginormous plastic bag hat strapped to my head.
We haven't been sleeping at all this week around here, and I don't know why. Energy upheaval, Mercury in retrograde, whatever. We haven't been sleeping.
Last night, I laid in bed until 11:45 before I finally fell asleep. Then Colden came in with his pillow around 3 a.m. Around 3:30, he woke up and cried that he was thirsty. I got up and got him something to drink. Then he went back to sleep, but I laid there until about 4:30, when I finally got up and went to sleep in his bedroom. I'm guessing I fell asleep around 5 or 5:30.
I woke up later on, not sure of what time it was, to see Colden standing at the side of the bed with the kitchen tongs, peeling the blankets off of me, one at a time. Funny. He says, "Mommy, wake up! It's morning! Time to get up!"
I was still feeling so wrecked that I said, "Colden, if you go get the iPad and let Mommy sleep for a few more minutes, I'll make hot cocoa for breakfast." Zoom! That kid can move fast when you mention two of his favorite things in the same sentence.
Next thing I know, I'm awake again, and thinking I had better get out of bed and see what time it is, since the clock in Colden's room hasn't worked for the last couple of weeks.
I looked at the clock in our room: 8:05.
Threw some breakfast together for Colden (peanut butter and jelly, his favorite), jumped in the shower for about thirty seconds to scrub the grime out of my hair and brush my teeth. Get dressed, get Colden dressed, run out the door.
Come home after dropping Colden off and think that my stomach is right - I need to eat breakfast. I start to make breakfast - potatoes and eggs - and pretty soon after I turned up the burner to cook the potatoes, I smelled something burning.
No biggie, probably just a little piece of food in the burner. (Electric stove.) Turn around to turn the ceiling fan on in the kitchen to blow the smoke away, and I turn around and...
Switch off the burner, turn on every fan in the house, open the back door, try to work the fire extinguisher, not even sure if I can USE the fire extinguisher on a fire on an electric stove.
Called 911 for guidance. Flames go out on their own while I'm on the phone. House filled with smoke, and potatoes cooked to shit.
At least the fire department didn't have to come out.
So, granted, I'm sure this isn't plastic-bag-hat-strapping material, but it sure feels like I'm at the end of my rope today. I don't know whether to laugh or cry or a little bit of both.
One thing is for sure: I'm not turning on the stove or the oven again until tomorrow.