Well, DH is finally home after a full month away (yay!!!) but now we're smack-dab in Elder Care Hell trying to get the FIL settled in an assisted care facility about a 5-minute drive away from us, and dealing with the mounds of associated BS. We're stressed out to the gills, and when I'm not stressed or anxious or exhausted, I'm becoming very depressed.

I was looking at facebook last night and saw tons of posts by people participating in the SFR 1000K brevet, which, before our journey into Elder Care Hell, DH and I were planning to help maillotpois on (we had to bail out on that, along with every other freakin' thing we planned to do this summer and early fall) ... and I started crying. That one really got to me. Note to self: step away from the facebook for the time being.

DH and I had a good mutual cry (oh yeah, it's all getting to him too), we dried our eyes, and started talking about stuff. It was good. Then FIL called needing something, and we smiled and dealt with it. His timing was impeccable, if he called 15 minutes earlier it could have been ugly.

After we dealt with FIL, DH and I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things. And I suggested it was high time for some Ben & Jerry's therapy -- heh, DH lit up light a beacon on that one. So last night I downed nearly an entire pint of New York Super Fudge chunk, my drug of choice. First time I've done that in ages.

I know I must not use food as therapy, but dammit I needed that last night. At least I'm well below my WW goal weight, so I can get away with a couple of indiscretions. I just better not make a habit of it. Hopefully the FIL will settle into his new digs and the crises will settle down to a dull roar and the stupidity will eventually be dealt with. And I can find the time and the inclination to dust the cobwebs off my sadly ignored bike and go out for some short rides. Here's hoping.

Thanks for listening, gang.