I'm sitting in the car on my way to Vermont, the once a winter obligatory visit to Jon's mom.
I'm not pissed.
I'm not resigned.
I'm not complaining, bitching, carrying on about how miserable I am, how awful the weekend will be.
Surprisingly, shockingly really, I'm ok.
And I'm trying to figure out why that is. Perhaps though, I should be grateful and not dig any deeper.
I know this mellow state won't last. As soon as we're in reach of the spider web, the intricate plans made without my knowledge, the constant stream of mindless chatter, the drip drip dripping of judgments about me will start until I'm screaming under my breath with no where to go in her cold dark house with slate floors that turn your feet to ice.
All the bad stuff is starting to bubble up. I cam finally almost laugh about it.