There are nine teaching days left in the school year for my seniors, and eleven for the juniors. It's hard to believe we're so close to the end. It's been hard to focus on anything, work, school work, anything, because it's been so hot here for the last several days. Shawn decided to buy a portable air conditioning unit, which is called portable because it's on wheels even though it weighs about three hundred pounds and takes up half a room. It has two hoses that are as thick as tree trunks, both of which go out the bedroom window, one to suck in air and another to spit out air. And it roars. Literally it roars so loudly that it's like sleeping in the same room with a lawnmower. And still, it's preferable to trying to sleep in the stifling heat.
This afternoon I reread my notes about C and the events that have occurred since our last visit to court. It's unbelievable, in retrospect, that I've allowed myself to worry about anything she says or does considering that she has been wrong about absolutely everything, hasn't carried through with a single threat she's made, and has made absolutely no progress in recovery. I wonder why I still allow myself to listen to anything she says, why I still worry that she will be able to take Little J back to that life, why I spend any time being angry or frustrated or scared.
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