A miserable night

I’m awake although I don’t want to be.

One of the kittens pissed on my bed. I’d gone to bed early and it was playing on top of the blanket over my hand. I heard scratching and then felt wet… as the little bugger had pissed right through the blanket and comforter. So now I had to get up and wash the comforter and sheet – not enough space in my washing machine for the blanket.

A couple more days of my Facebook ban, but I switched to my Facebook tab, and it reminds me that today is my mother’s birthday. Somehow I’d forgotten. She would have been 72 today, but of course she died on December 7th 2018 at age 70. I can’t believe it’s nearly two years already.

And I still miss her.

That’s one thing I hate about Facebook. All the profiles that become shrines to the people they represent, and worse, those that don’t. Those where the posts end quite abruptly, without anyone posting anything about missing and loving them. My mother hardly even used Facebook… she’d always remind me to show her how and I’d always put it off. Another day, I thought, but that day never came. Just like every Christmas I meant to ask her for her trifle recipe but put it off for another year. A year that never was.

Last year was both better and worse. Better because I could at least write a post about remembering and missing her there; worse because it for some unknown reason opened a message from her as if I’d just received it, a message asking me how I was and expressing hope that I’d had a better day. Like a message from a ghost.

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