August 19, 1998
Poopy (With A Capital "Oopy")

Forgive me if I haven't been my usual, dangerously-optimistic selves, the past few days.

I am having a POOPY week. With a capital OOPY.   And I guess it shows, on my face and on my website.

The long and short (and boring) of it? I am absotively consumed by money worries at the moment. I'm doing everything right, and yet this living-on-my-own stuff is proving to be so much more complicated than I had anticipated. Everything in the world depends on me not fudking things up financially ... and yet right now I am barely hanging by my thumbs. And the drop is one helluva lot longer than I ever imagined.  The little Post-It note above my computer monitor says "Leap, and the net will appear." I guess they forgot to *inform* me that the net is gonna "appear," alright ... eleven feet away from where I hit the GROUND.

I woke up yesterday morning to the following impassioned e-mail plea from Daughter #2:

this is realllly hard for me to ask , i've got too much dang pride , but do u think u could help me buy some school clothes? im all out of options and this makes me feel so poor and cheap i think i might cry , but i need new shoes and jeans and shirts and shit real bad :( love, kacie

How do you suppose it made me feel to have to write her back and say No, I'm sorry Honey, I've already sent you guys all the money I have, there isn't anymore for me to give ...?


She was very sweet and understanding and grown-up about it. "I know you're trying, Mom," she said when I called her in tears from my office. My fifteen-year-old daughter was comforting her forty-year-old failure of a mother.

Daughter #1 was not nearly as forgiving. Her caustic e-mail practically leapt off the computer monitor and slugged me in the face. ("We can always count on our mother," she sneered hatefully.)

Even the ex-husband had to wade in with one of his amazingly helpful suggestions. "Maybe there's a 7-11 where you could work nights," he said. (YES! Of course! Why the hell didn't *I* think of that???)

Thing is. I already know what I need to do to resolve all of this. I'm just not sure I have the courage.

Leap? And trust that the fudking net is gonna appear in the precise location/at the precise moment I need it to appear?

Leap? And hope that I have a parachute I wasn't even aware I had?

Leap? And hope that a brand-new *Someone* comes along and saves me? 

NOT leap? And go down the fire escape instead, feeling all disgraced and embarassed?

I'll be more forthcoming with details tomorrow, I promise. Tonight I just need to sit here and listen to Dvorak and trains and wait for my spaghetti sauce to congeal. Afterwards I'll sit in a tub of bubbles and read "Tactical Knives." 

And then I'll go to sleep and have The Moving Dream Again.



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