Since my divorce, the kids and I have lived in 2 bedroom apartments because 3 bedrooms are astronomical up here and I can’t afford one. Since my kids are so spread out age-wise (not enough for the older have outgrown torturing the younger…and not normal sibling stuff; she’s in therapy for it stuff) and different genders, they really both need a bedroom so that I don’t go insane.

So I’ve been on the couch for 6 years now, with absolutely zero privacy.


So much so that I have a partially written essay about my kids calling the bathroom “my room”. Not in fun. Because to them, it’s my room.

I’ve slept in the tub a few times. With blankets and pillows and everything. It’s not too bad. Kinda cocoony, if you like that sort of thing.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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