Mopey Shade of Blue

(Love this dresser created by Flea Market Trixie using old map)

It is nearly 11 am and I have done nothing today (laundry loads and dishes aside) except mope around in bed. I am feeling quite grey-blue, despondent and just plain tired. I really need to put up a list of things to be happy about like a favorite blogger does, but I also have a hard time focusing when I am feeling this way.

I came home this week for a funeral (my late father's older brother); to meet with the police regarding my wrongful ticket and employee misconduct; and, apparently, be a maid. The house is wrecked. I do not see ever getting it to look pretty. I started a painting project two weekends ago and the color of blue (a vintage map color) looks gorgeous, especially with the religionalia. However, I stalled at the edges because I cannot find the paint tape in all the mess this house has become since I went to KY.

Tomorrow I have a hair appointment (one I have needed for months, but couldn't find the time for...my grey is popping out of my dark hair like fireworks). I also need to attend a wedding reception of a (in-law) niece I don't care for to be honest. I really just want to go back to KY. I really despise Indiana.


I am also certain 'justice' is a figment of our imagination. Should you ever get pulled over when you were not committing a crime (or moving violation). Let it go and accept they will ALWAYS be right. They can drag you out of the vehicle for whatever reason they deem fit and they do not have to show you any proof of your crime. Oh, they also do not have to identify themselves (hear that police impostors!!) Don't bother filing a complaint; they will have an excuse for everything. I get so tired of hearing I should have said, "Sir this, Sir that..." and not questioned why I was being pulled over. I was not speeding, I did not earn the citation, yet I will be punished for it anyway. Know this, however, should I ever be the officer you deal with, you can not only ask for my identification (and should), but I will tell you specifically why I am visiting you and show you the codes and information I have. I will not leave you in the dark to fight a battle you did not deserve. I do still believe that I work for citizens and I believe in the oath I took for my badge.

My husband is also on my shit list. He made a despairing comment about my body. Why do men do that shit? Really! Society is hard enough on us. Turning 40 is hard enough on us. Why make it worse? He has been back peddling from his slip, but it hurts. It will continue to nag at me because it is something hard to fix. I feel ugly.

I really want to go yard saling just to get my brain off these cycles of self-pity, but I know that bringing home more junk when I am piled over with projects is just stupid. I have garden stuff to contend with, laundry (you have no idea), decluttering, painting, fixing, and planning. I hate that sun has gone away (I never complain about sunshine even if it is bloody hot!) I really want to create something beautiful like that dresser above. My mother recently gave me an old world map that belonged to my father, but she tore it into pieces to throw it in the garbage (until learning I wanted it*). It is these lovely vintage shades of color. I tried taping it back together (it is a velum like material), but it looks awful. This would be a great way to rescue it.

OK, maybe this is something to be happy about today.

*My mother is not a sentimental person and has thrown most of my father's things out (or sold them in ys without asking his four children if they want anything. He told me on his deathbed that he had a box of letters out in the garage for me (he was to a point he could not leave a bed); he told me out of all of his children we shared a lot. I was in the dark as to what he could mean.

A couple of weeks ago, my mom mentions she found a box of love letters from my father's time in England (he met and married my mother at 30). She said they were just a bunch of garbage. I was (and am still) pissed at this action! I just know these letters were the ones my father meant and now I will never be able to read them. I also met and married my current husband in my 30's and, I too, lived somewhere else in my youth. I also loved and lost love during those years. I returned to IN due to a heartbreak that was real and momumental to who I am now. I think my father "related" to this heartbreak in his daughter.

OK, enough already. If you are reading still...thanks.