Four More Days

My mom is visiting and we’re both going a little crazy. Each day delivers more rain than the last so she’s cooped up in the apartment drinking coffee and reading. It’s not such a bad routine, especially for her because it’s the sort of thing she’s prone to do, but that’s just the point: she could read at home. I’m on edge because work is a hornet’s nest, the kind of hornet’s nest where there are a few predatory folks buzzing about making life a lot more difficult for the rest of us, so maybe it’s not a hornet’s nest, but it’s miserable nonetheless. I want to quit. Yesterday I woke up in a mild anxiety attack and last night I had this crazy dream where I killed an elderly woman and then double hole punched her flesh before hiding her body in a handbag. Seriously. Something’s gotta give.