a crush

Nothing, literally, no thing has ever flattened me faster than being called 2nd for transplant. Today is no exception. I might would rather soak my feet in lemon juice after having my toenails ripped off. Crushing.

Scott has chosen an emotional flat line. I could hit his face with a 2x4 and he wouldn't flinch. It might be easier for him that way, but my meltdown would be more validated if he lost it, too. It's lonely being the only basket case.

I guess there still is a chance the #1 guy won't take it, but it's pretty slim. They are not even having us come down this time; just on call; yippeee, woo hoo, let's wait around to see if #1 dies before he can take it. Oy!

The day has not been a total bust. The kids and I had planted the garden before Salt Lake called. We visited Grandma and Grandpa Lovell's grave; ate lunch at Jan's; bought an ivy vine from Home Depot.

I traded a child with Jan for the night; JA stayed to play wii and with her boys, Marley came to play with my girls. It's a good trade; while I love the boy so very much, he's the one that requires that my energies be thoroughly sucked out before he can go to bed. There's just not any to spare, tonight. It's likely he'll feel more loved if he's not next to me.