Feeling some self pity and anger today; even the coffee, a bowl of cereal and cookies, and the sun on the mountains doesn't seem to help. I'm cranky sourpuss even though my life is pretty good. Everyone is nice to me and I don't have to work; not that I ever really minded working. It's not like, "OMG thank god I never have to go anywhere and do something I don't like for 8 hours and talk to my co-workers and walk around Manhattan on my lunch hour!" Most of my jobs I've liked well enough or tolerated. The few I didn't like, I got rid of pretty quickly.
The baby is sleeping. I put her in her crib and she got the picture. This morning, I went through the closets in order to find new bedding. I haven't changed the sheets on any bed in over three weeks. Gross. So, there's bedding in the closets. We're supposed to take off the bumpers now because the baby could feasibly crawl out.
I need to start writing like this again. It's good for the soul. I have to keep reminding myself that the first year is a year of transition. I just feel a lot of fear and anxiety. Some of it is probably maternal hormones. I'm still nursing so still feel like a frayed nerve sometimes. It's gotten better. It was really bad for the first several months coming home from the hospital. I could look at the news or read anything disturbing. I'd get disturbing news stories or thoughts stuck in my head and they'd run through a lot. It's like, "Why the hell do I keep thinking about Ariel Castro?!!!" But I think about him and those girls all the time! It's like, "What kind of a shitty world do we live in?! My aunt is right to be a shut in and watch old movies checked out from the library." I'd do that too.
The baby is asleep and I'm showered and coffeed and breakfasted. There was class this morning, but husband and inlaws had to go into the city in order to do some paperwork nonsense. It was just me and the baby. She wants to crawl but doesn't know how to do that yet. She either just gets down on her belly and scootches backwards or sits on her butt and bounces around the room. She'll never get it. She'll be the only bald, scootching 18-year-old in college. ;)
I have two showers in my bathroom; a standing one and a hand-held one in the bath. I've taken to using the bathtub hand-held shower. It's more thorough and has a stronger spray. The stand in shower is almost worthless. The spray is too scattered and weak. My face and hair get clean, but everything else just gets damp.
Today, there was class in the morning but I couldn't go because I had to watch my own baby. I'm doing laundry; thank god I have a dryer. I put things out to dry on the terrace two days ago and they're still damp. I have no idea how things are down in the basement. I put a table cloth down there. I'll put the duvet cover down there later. I'm doing a big laundry. In my tiny washing machine. It's okay.
I just need to relax and remind myself that I have a bed to sleep in and food in the larder. I knew I'd have mixed feelings when I got here and I have them. I'm not really homesick, but I wouldn't say I'm ecstatic to be here, either. It's not really under my terms. I'm in an apartment where I'm not allowed to do anything. I'm not allowed to use the dryer because it takes too much energy. I'm not allowed to take a bath because it uses too much water. I'm not allowed to turn on lights because they use too much electricity. The garbage is downstairs, out the gate, and down the street! That's a big fucking drag.
Thank god the grocery store isn't too far away. I'm scared to drive my car because I keep stalling out in the driveway. I'm a nervous wreck. I can't speak Italian and can barely understand when someone talks to me.