husband, at my request, has gone through all his pell-mell paperwork.

by pell-mell i mean: mail, school documents, pay stubs, tax returns indiscriminately tossed into brown paper grocery bags, brown packing boxes, drawers, cupboards, behind the desk monitor, atop the printer, about the desk.

by gone through i mean: paperwork now ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE.

i regret ever asking him to get his adult shit together. fuck this.

i have the sneaking suspicion that i have stopped functioning in the present. autopilot 24/7. i review the "footage" of my day-to-day, & am embarrassed by what an asshole i've become. i listen to respond, not to understand! blasphemy! i long for my impulsive, tempestuous self; she is far more interesting in planned, plodding now-self. fuck my present self.

also, fuck those people who produced ender's game the movie. fuck them for stripping the nuance of what ender did & what he & his siblings are capable of.