No one reads this, so I suppose I can just write. And write I will.
I'm pretty much done.
I am close to the edge. I've gotten to the point that being done doesn't scare me anymore.
Paul was supposed to go to work in the oil fields in North Dakota. It was very promising. The thought of him being home one week out of the month sucked, but we are desperate. And desperate times call for desperate measures. So, a-borrowing we went, and he packed and left. Tears were shed. Facebook statuses were shared. He was off to frack himself silly. And he was back in 3 days.
I could go on and on about the state of the trucking industry. I'm sure you aren't interested. It is safe to say that the fact that the truck he was supposed to drive didn't work, there was no work for him to do, and he spent three days sleeping in his pickup had a lot to do with his return.
He's not planning on going back. He's had job offers, but seriously, it cost us what little we had left to send him there. He came home with nothing. We are broke. Flat broke. Well, kindve....we have $50. So not exactly broke, but I'd call it pretty damned close.
We are on our way to skid row.
Post-it poems - [image: post-it poems] I get to write off my kids' artwork because they keep stealing all my office supplies.
19 hours ago