Peg just rang in tears. Saying she can't stop crying, at all, because she can't stop thinking of Daddy "being embalmed" (which he wasn't) and in a "big black box" (which he isn't) and I'm not there and she just talked to the collie puppie woman saying she doesn't "understand what's supposed to be happening" (she does NOT get a puppy, we get the PROCEEDS from a puppy) even though we've discussed this nine million times, she is also crying because "this" is how her life has turned out after "working her tail off all these years" (she retired by choice at 55) and poor me poor me etc etc. and "no one feels sorry" for her.
So. It's Thanksgiving. I was doing fondue but can't find fucking Sterno anywhere in this stupid country except online for delivery in 3 days which does me no good so now I guess we have no dinner and I am now on antibiotics but still don't feel human and my ear and teeth and sinuses are still throbbing and I have been doing my ever-loving BEST to make life a little nicer for my mother and am up to here with getting her PR and relaunching her shows in the UK and getting her scripts published and loading more website content which I think I'll be doing util the day I die which ain't too far away let me tell you and launching DK's book and 2 more CDs of his published and trying to finish that novel or three and get the Peg House built in the garden here that she doesn't want to live in and have the Becket house ahead of me to empty and sell and….
Moan moan moan. It will all get done. But for today and maybe this week and maybe next too, who knows, I am giving up even moaning.
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