What a Fucking Year to Journal

There are only a few days left to this year. It's both naive and optimistic of me to believe that 2017 will mark a fresh start, but the flip side is far too dark to think about. 

RIP Carrie Fisher.

Not George Michael. Please, No.

I'm a quiet crier for the most part. One thing this year has taught me about myself is that as soon as I start crying hard, after hearing horrible news, it can sound like I'm laughing at first.

fuckinghell

The fact that Danielle, Nanny and Granny have passed away this year fills me with grief.

Danielle - The Warrior

Nanny - Our Rock

Granny - The Peace Maker

Christmas is a rather depressing thought.  

Husband's Home

Seth's back from a business trip. I worried before he left. I mean, fuck this year, right? I was over here worried about worst case scenario, a basket case, reduced to thinking of my life without him. Well, he arrived home last night, and I feel so relieved.
The weather has been been cloudy (gloomy for several days, and today's my fourth day off of work since they cut pt hours) but mild for late November.
I've been sick. The windows have been cracked, I've been lighting candles, and reading.
About to make our crock pot useful.
Back to work tomorrow.

This piece of Kimchee looks about how I've felt lately.