Yesterday we were robbed. Someone knocked on the door looking for work, offered the whole day for $20 and obviously knew construction. I am desperate to get water to the attic for Raederle and my husband is obviously not going to do it, and this guy said he knew plumbing. And he started right in, and did seem to know what he was doing. Then he made off with all our tools while I wasn't looking. Went out the back door. Circular saw, sawzall, jigsaw, miter saw, three drills. Close to $500 in replacement cost. My husband won't speak to me. I don't blame him.
I really wish I had died twenty years ago when I had the chance. Except for my daughter, this twenty years has not been worth the living. No, I'm not really suicidal - I wouldn't do that to Raederle - but I really have nothing to live for, and every year gets harder.
ETA: Oh dear. I knew some people would come forward with support, but I didn't expect to sit here with tears streaming down my face because of it. You are wonderful people.
I certainly can't ever regret befriending any of you. If there has been any purpose to my life, it is to express kindness for others.
I just wish I could have something! I can't work, my husband has no respect for me in spite of the fact that I basically spend my days doing nothing but trying to please him, I can no longer do anything to help my daughter along with her life, I haven't been able to indulge in my hobbies for many years because the house is too disorganized, the tools I need to work on it are gone, and now my writing is gone. Also, this probably means I won't be able to go to the Toronto Sci Fi convention where Elijah will be, unless my son can come through with some money for me.
I don't really think that I'm not a worthwhile person, or I would most certainly be dead by now. But a bit at a time, I'm losing everything, no matter how hard I work.