I don’t think in journal entries anymore. I hope I’m not finished with this way of recording my life, because I’ve not yet found another way of doing so.

It’s the first of April, and I haven’t yet told you about my birthday party on the first of March. I am not sure I told you of my birthday at all. Did I even discuss Kevin’s birthday, in January? I haven’t told you that the snow is still here, that work is still sucky but is day-to-day bearable. I forgot to talk about the house Kevin and I were thinking of buying, that my brother, 7-months-pregnant-sister-in-law and my 21-month-old nephew are here for a visit, and that I’ve been working my ass off (which is nothing new) and being praised for it at work lately (which is). I’ve been taking pictures of garden gnomes and not posting them.

I didn’t write here when my neighbours pissed me off (repeatedly), when my ceiling started leaking (again), when my rent cheque bounced (for no good reason), or when I started walking to work again. I don’t think you know that I’m working from 12-8pm two nights a week now, and that because of it, I’m happier and the work weeks seem to go by quickly and easily. I have oodles of energy (except right now I’m tired because it’s past my bedtime), I’ve been getting exercise, and my eating habits are kinda icky again.

You didn’t know when Kevin was gone for a week on a work trip, and I was sad and lonely, and he bought a 12-string guitar. Maybe I didn’t mention that my parents have stripped almost all of the floors in their (formerly my grandparents’) house down to the hardwood and refinished them - by hand. Or that Kevin and I are stripping and refinishing a pedestal rocking chair, and my apartment is covered in dust. I’ve told no one my thoughts of packing everything I own into boxes, stacking them somewhere and moving into the upstairs of my mom’s place until Kevin and I can find a house we love so I can just get the hell out of this apartment, the one I used to love so much and which is now so polluted with noise I want to cry and scream and be anywhere but here.

Life’s ups and downs have whizzed by, and there is no record of them.

I guess that’s how it goes, sometimes.