We went by the new house today to see if they have done anything else. They have done a little more work but in the process did some damage as well. The garden tub has been damaged, a large nick on the side, I hope it can be repaired and not look tacky. That really disappointed me. I'm a bit of perfectionist about some things, and my home is one of them. As far as I am concerned they might as well repaint the walls again, there are so many marks and nicks on the walls and trim work. The driveway has grease marks on it, and the carpet ahs been stained as well. They patched two holes in the ceiling and now they don't match. The quarter round has not been put down either, and today I noticed where the crown molding was coming apart from the ceiling.

I really hate being a bitch about these things but when you spend the kind of money we are spending on this house you would like it to be right. Tomorrow I plan on calling and bitching, again, about the stuff that is wrong. I've also decided that I want to do a walk though at least three days before we close, because I do not want to close on a house until it is completed to my satisfaction. I do not want a bunch of construction workers coming in and doing this and that when we are trying to move in. If they can't repair that tub to my satisfaction then I guess they will end up ripping it out, there is no excuse for shabby work.

Can you tell I've been a bit bitchy lately?

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Kathy brought me more boxes today. The house is starting to look crowded and empty at the same time. The end tables no longer contain pictures and knick knacks, the shelves are empty in the entertainment center, nothing hangs on the walls, and the dining room table is cleared off and the china cabinet empty as well. My life is being packed away into boxes.

This morning when I started packing away the china and silver every piece brought back a memory. My great grandmother's china was used at my baby shower for the very first time. My mother brought me her silver after she found out she was out of remission, and I used it to serve Easter dinner on. Paupy's silver tea set reminds me of the holidays we spent with her before she died, and how she served hot coffee and rum cake. I wrapped each piece carefully, cushioning the boxes and making sure Wild child or the cat could not pry their little hands and paws into my breakables.

I feel shallow having so many feelings and emotions wrapped up in "things", material objects. Most of my family is now dead, and the only thing besides the blood in my veins that links them to me is their possessions. I morbidly wear the last t-shirt I saw my brother alive in when I am at pottery class, and I have my mother's favorite clothes and her robe hanging in the guest room closet. Jeff never says a word, but he once mistakenly put on Tim's t-shirt and I freaked. For a long time I didn't wash that shirt. I had dug it out of the dirty clothes when we first discovered he was missing and I took it. It still smelled like him, and I was comforted by that. The things we do when we grieve.

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Did I mention that I enjoy debate? Any kind of debate will do. Recently I have been debating corporal punishment(spanking), welfare, and schooling. I feel like a rabid dog some days in these debates, often wanting to tear my opponents head off with my bear fists.

If you ever had the impression that I am this really nice person, I'm not. When I debate I often grow horns and spit fire, and don't really pay attention to the words I use and who they may hurt. I'm really like this online, because I feel so detached from the other people in the debate. I have this illusion that they really can't get hurt by a faceless person on line that goes by a screen name rather their proper name., even though the words of the faceless have often hurt me.

I've been online now for over two years. I have made a few friends. I met a woman shortly after coming online in a infertility chat room and we have been friends ever since. I have never spoken to her on the phone, or seen her in "real" life but we do have each others address and have exchanges photos. I also became friends with a group of older Christian women online but as of late the friendships have waned a great deal. I have met two men online that I do stay in touch with a good bit and talk to online, Joe and Eric. Eric, is by far one of the most fascinating of the two, and reminds me of my husband. I can talk to him about anything. Joe is old enough to be my father, Jewish and an attorney. We often talk about his cases, his ex-wife, his children and my marriage.

I often wonder what it would be like to meet these people in real life. To see them, touch them, and watch their mannerisms. I imagine what it would be like to see the expressions on their faces, hear their voices, see a smile, and watch their body movements. I also would like to know if they would be just as easy to talk to in real life then online, if they would still like me, etc.

Journal reading has definitely made me feel more of a connection to those online. I get angry when someone wrongs another, I cry when I read of desperation, I feel pity with each and every struggle and I laugh when something funny happens. Hopefully my journal reading will help me to become more sensitive and kind to the faceless I come across online.

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