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On Saturday C phoned and had an argument with Little J. She was talking about the house she was going to get for the two of them to live in after she completes rehab, which begins at the end of the month. Understandable, Little J is skeptical about whether C will finish this rehab since she has been kicked out of the last 7. She told C she doesn't want to live with her even she does complete rehab. C's response to this (after neither yelling nor sobbing was effective) was to tell Little J that she is going to forbid her to leave the province next month to go and visit her grandparents.

We will probably need to return to court at some point to remove C's power to do these kinds of malicious things because right now, there's nothing we can do. If we take Little J out of the province, C can (and I wouldn't put it past her to) call the police. It's infuriating. Sickening.

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Just as I grow comfortable with reaching my mid-thirties, my old high school boyfriend looks me up on Facebook and wants to be friends. I have problems with old boyfriends because I don't get over people. I move on and get married and raise squillions of dogs and all that crap. But I don't get over people.

You'll think I'm disgusting for writing this but I'm writing it anyway. This boyfriend, he was a total flake. He drank a lot, he was smart but goofy and there was something about him that I found so sexy I couldn't stand it. One day I was riding public transit and suddenly I had a sharp mental jab, bringing Paul into the forefront of my thoughts. I wasn't sure at first, and then I realized that I could smell him. He smelled like beer and stale cigarette smoke. And sometimes chewing tobacco. And after a second I tracked down the smell that was reminding me of Paul and it was coming from a homeless man who was carrying a plastic bag full of cans.

This is just a small example of how demented my relationship (and feelings) for Paul are. Were.


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