the truth?

life sucks.  i have good days and bad days but none of them have the one thing i really want.  my 9TS.  i don't know why yesterday was so crummy.  i try as a whole to keep busy.  i went through piles of accumulated paper work, sent out some long overdue notes, made my grocery list, brushed down the still green pool, ran to the clerk of the court for a certified copy of my marriage certificate, emptied the dishwasher, tossed a huge pile of junk to the street for garbage collection, finished a book, ate and fell into the wine bottle.  worshiping the porcelain goddess is not the answer.  and finally, i broke down and took an ambien.  and slept until 5:14.  still no sloth.  and, as we all know, everything seems worse in the depth of night.  even my chirping bird friends are silent.  my brains are going round and round and I know they won't stop until the sun comes up and brings another day. 

i keep the downstairs bedroom door closed.  even though the furniture has long been put back in place, i can't lose the vision of him in that hospital bed, struggling.  dying.  i still see the pain on the faces of my family. i want to remember the good times but they won't come yet.  i just want my sloth back.  is that really too much to ask?