I used to love to cook. And I used to be good at it. I think I still could be, if I had some place to cook. I have 18 inches of counter space on either side of my sink. I have a round kitchen table, but half of it is covered with a toaster, fresh fruits and veggies, things that have no where else to go. Thus, I have very little room for food prep.
This has caused me to develop a one pot mentality. And I lean far too heavily on prepared foods. Too much sodium, too many empty calories. Trash. My child is picky. And her tastes change a lot, so what she'll eat one day, she won't like the next.
Well, that being said, we cooked tonight. I fixed a sort of lasagna, and while it was cooling, I taught her to make peas the way she likes them. We both prefer frozen, but canned worked okay for this instance. It was nice, having the opportunity to work with her a little.
I of course spent too much time on my computer this evening, trying to install the camera. I'm thinking I might try to call Shane this evening, to see if he can walk me through some troubleshooting. Its bad enough that I don't really have many friends in real life. But not having anyone who can just come over and look at this bloody beast and see what simple little thing is preventing me from using my fucking camera is enough to set me sobbing again. I hate being so emotional over something like this, but being constantly beset by frustration, and constantly told 'No', it doesn't take much to push me over the edge. Please, no comments about this whole situation. I appreciate the well-wishes, but they just depress me further.
My computer is also making a racket. A constant, mid-range buzz, that Steve says is likely caused by an instruction manual he placed in the base of the computer before he put the case back on. Hauling it into the house, I can't guarantee I kept it upright, so its likely fallen against a fan. It's so simple to just remove the screws and take the case off and find it and ohyeahrightsure. siiiiiiiiiigh
One of my nephews is getting married at the end of September, in Morganholetown. He called this evening, to personally invite me, because he failed to include my name on the invitation he sent to his grandparents. Of course I graciously accepted, despite having told my mother I would not attend. I'm sure that's why he called, she's told someone. I haven't told my mother anything in confidence in probably 10 years. (I bet she wonders why.) There was a time when I felt close to Jamie, but that was probably 20 years ago. He's marrying a woman about 10 years his senior, with four children. I think he's about 25. I hope it lasts, for his sake. For anyone's sake. Whatevah.
I've asked my mother and stepdad to bring their truck and pick up my Christmas decorations, and some other items I want to store at their house. All part of making this place habitable. I feel as if the walls are closing in on me, I'm constantly faced with reminders of just how small it actually is.
I wish I had something else to say.
I have some really cool pics to post.
*whimper*