"Mommie Dearest"

I know I'm especially crazy tonight. It began when I told Rocky he had one hour left on the computer (this was at 11:30 PM) and he immediately copped an attitude. Escalated from there.

And when the girls were still getting up for every excuse in the book at the same hour.

So I unplugged Rocky's Internet. He stayed up, playing the piano, so I cut his power. But he stayed up anyway, so I made them ALL get up and clean the house completely. It reminded me of the axe scene in Mommie Dearest. And the whole time, though I knew I had rational reasons for instituting such a consequence, I couldn't stand on a single one of them because my head felt too fragmented.

So we cleaned until after 2, and the kids -- as I suspected -- got to where they were begging to go to sleep. And before I dismissed them to do so, I reiterated WHY we'd been up cleaning in the middle of the night, and we'd do it again if we ever face the same problem again.

So now they're ALL crashed, but I'm still awake with some obscure 70s earworm boring through my brain and thinking -- inexplicably -- about the Jonestown suicide recordings, and Jim Jones's perverse, unsettling, drug-dragging lisp.  "Muthderth, muthderth, thon't do thith. Go, but go with thignity. Thon't do thith."

And I've been thinking of my friends who miss me, wondering if they truly DO understand I'm not healthy right now. If they respect that fact, or if they're secretly judging me amongst themselves for being flaky and nuts rather than legitimately, respectably unstable.

What an oxymoron, that I am so very disordered, yet in a certain slant of light, clarity is razor sharp. It's viewing a perfectly clear reflection in the mirror, of a perfectly frightening harpy.