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Thursday, August 03, 2006

It's hot.

You know, I really wouldn't mind all the snow and freezing temperatures I have to endure in the wintertime here in Pennsylvania if it weren't for the stinking goddamn summers. I didn't think a few months of decent weather was too much to ask for, but apparently it is. We're lucky to get two weeks of decent weather in the spring and fall.

We are now living in Downingtown permanently and fulltime, although it's nowhere near as complete as I wanted it to be before we leave for Australia. There are boxes everywhere, and no kitchen floor - the fridge and the unconnected oven/stove are in the living room. The most complete room is the bathroom, and even that's missing wall tiles, a finished ceiling, and two pieces of drywall.

The other day, Matt and I spent hours packing up the last of our belongings in Harrisburg, cleaned the rooms, and made it back to Downingtown exhausted at midnight. The next morning, I woke up and stumbled through the moving rubble to the bathroom, and saw an unfamiliar salt shaker on the lip of the sink. Strange, I thought. Maybe Matt picked that up somewhere and brought it home. I walked out of the bathroom and saw an unfamiliar box. That's odd too, I ruminated. Maybe Matt packed it when I wasn't looking. I wonder what's in it. The box was full of unfamiliar new kitchen utensils.

"Matt? Matt can you come down here and look at this?"

As Matt pulled himself reluctantly from bed the mattress on our bedroom floor, I suddenly caught sight of a set of blue drawers that also didn't belong to us.

For a few seconds, I honestly thought that we had deliriously packed up somebody else's house without noticing. The next thought was that I had developed some sort of memory problem and didn't recognize my own belongings. Four hours sleep a night can do strange things to your understanding of existence.

Luckily, it was nothing more sinister than Matt's brother, Ryan, moving his stuff in while we were out. The in-laws gave him a key. Ryan is looking after the house and the cats while we're in Australia. I was kind of embarrassed about the state of our house, but he's been roughing it in India for the past few weeks, sleeping in the jungle covered in ants or something, so our unfinished floors and walls are an improvement.

I just found out a few minutes ago that Mum is back in the psych ward, and has been since Sunday. She reduced her medication again. This has been the reason for her hospital stays the last three times at least. After the last time, a court made her take injections at a clinic for a while, but when that injunction expired, she took liberties again.

It seems every time Matt comes to Australia, the first thing he has to do is visit my mum in a mental institution.

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