I feel nervous. Like the calm before the storm, the hours seem to roll by in relative normalcy. Yet, lately, my heart and pulse beats uneasily, as if something's about to happen. And the unknown anticipation is doing squat for my stress level...especially since no matter how much I'd like to tune out the truth, the fact remains that I have a family who's either psychotic or lethargic.

As you might recall, [M]ental, a psychotic, picked up her car a few weeks ago. Since then, she hasn't contacted us much other than a couple of short messages--mainly for us to be on the look-out for some snail mail. No big deal, right?! Except she's been more diligent to add "Miss you" or "Love you" at every point of conclusion. That may not sound strange to some people, but the practice is not in our ways and I can't erase a sense of foreboding. Most likely, she might be fighting one of her diabolical demons. Even so, I just hope she's not out on the streets sleeping in her car, because the neighbors complained about the crazy girl or the walls began talking again.

[B]um, on the other hand, continues with his lethargic ways. Everyone's pretty much on their tiptoes around the house being extra careful to be quiet. Shhh! I said. Even the pets give a wide berth to his door, wary that a sudden outburst might be the end of one of their nine lives. And I hate it. Sit down, you're rockin' the boat. Others tell me to give B some time to sort out his frustration and anger. Alright, I'm backing away. Still, have you known the feeling of being on the fringe? Waiting to jump at the slightest sound that might ignite your fight or flight response? And if I'm not careful as to how I respond, I might make the matter far worse?

Yeah, so I'm doing nothing, but holding my breath in this eerie silence. The same quiet treatment I've been getting from one of my co-workers, who is jealously miffed that I got my own window office and her printer. Mind you, not my own direct doing. (Remember how big honcho wanted to fill the void left by the G-Guy?! More work, more paper, more print jobs, hallelublah!) Then again, there's barely an inch of room for upward mobility at the workplace. She's stuck and she knows it, unless she can knock off her own boss. But until then, I might as well consider myself pigeon-holed by the green horns of her envy...

Ole!

Whoa, I think I'm going to pass out.