I don't return from "extended sick leave" until Monday so I've been virtually trapped at home all week. The kids are back at school, and James is taking some short shifts during the day so I've been alone. In the house - because someone doesn't trust me to drive without supervision - with nothing to entertain me but my own thoughts. Do I need to remind you that those thoughts are laced anti-psychotics after nearly killing my husband?
I probably don't but it bears remembering.
So I'm wandering around the house yesterday in my drug-addled haze and what do I start fixating on? A picture of pre-teen Sandra. I think it's her Grade 9 photo. Or Grade 8. It was the very first photo of either of the kids we put up in the house. I stole it from my sister's place after I got custody. She's so young in that photo - with her straight hair and her peasant blouse obsession that I still don't understand. She hates her straight hair, always has. She always wanted curly hair like her mom but I told her that's why god invented the curling iron.
D'you know? While I was off on my...bender, Sandra and James toured college campuses. She graduates this year. When the hell did she grow up? She is so mature for her age - more than I give her credit for - especially after I discovered the board in her closet (which is still there, by the way). I don't blame her for wanting to move away the second she gets her chance. I just wish it wasn't happening so fast.
I mean who in their right mind wants to be a research analyst?
Maybe I just don't know her like I thought. Maybe I spent so much time killing that I missed the most important years of my niece's life.
Maybe I should slow down so I don't end up missing Jason's as well.
Maybe I should stop.
Naw, I'm just kidding. No way in hell am I quitting when I'm in the prime of my serial killing years.
But a part of me deeply regrets not being as present as I could be for my children. At this point I think of them as my son and daughter - even if I can't call them that.
I definitely need to get out of this house. Nostalgia is not good for my health.
Four more days then I can go back to trying not to kill my secretary and plotting my revenge.
Four more days.
As always, dear readers,