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Nightshift [Sep. 28th, 2014|01:39 am]
It's Saturday, thus I'm in Mary Doria's apartment. Today I started going through my clothes and getting rid of things.

I'm going to make a list right now of what I will keep, and the rest of it is goingggg.

-3 pairs of skinny jeans
-3 pairs flare jeans
-1 pair of pink pants
-1 pair capri jeans
-1 pair black tight pants
-1 pair pajama shorts
-1 pair pajama pants
-3 pajama shirts
-3 hoodies
-1 zip-up sweatshirt
-1 pink, 1 grey, 1 black sweater
-1 jean vest
-5 camitanks
-3 long leggings, 3 capri leggings
-3 skirts
-7 shorts
-1 summer dress, 1 winter dress
-3 t-shirts
-3 nice shirts
-3 long-sleeved shirts
-2 winter jackets
-1 scarf
-2 pairs yoga pants
-2 pairs yoga capris
-4 workout shirts
-4 sports bras
-1 suit
-scrubs unlimited
-2 belts
-1 pair boots
-1 pair running shoes
-1 pair everyday sneakers
-1 pair work shoes
-1 pair dress shoes
-1 pair heels
-1 pair sandals
-2 pairs of stockings
-3 bras

I ate a bunch of munchin donuts and now I feel sick. Ugh.

Tomorrow I will go home around 7:30, lay with Stephen for a bit, then get ready to go to the mall with Destiny. Breakfast, hair, make up, eyebrows, get dressed.

Monday I'm going to spend the day doing research, aside from my haircut at noon. Tuesday will be spent doing much of the same, as well as preparing for the Wimba session. Wednesday will be the Wimba session, after which I will go to NH and see Justine. Thursday morning I will write the discussion for History and continue researching for my paper. Thursday evening I will go to yoga. Friday morning will be more research and the beginning of drafting. Saturday during the day I will write my first draft. Sunday I will recheck the draft and do the references, if they aren't done already.

Today is my mother's birthday. The last three days I've cried out of missing her. Today, I opened a plastic bag that's been in my closet since I brought it home after we cleaned out her apartment. In the bag was a sweatshirt that smelled strongly of her. As the years have passed, it's lost its smell. Tonight, before work, I took it down from the top shelf in my closet for the last time. I sat on my bed and opened the bag. There was no scent but that of fabric. I buried my face in that purple zip-up sweatshirt and sobbed. I sobbed for the chest I used to bury my face into and cry, for the smell and the warmth of my dear mother who I didn't hold nearly as dearly in life as I do now that she's dead.

I sobbed hard, let out with shaking sorrow the pain of losing the woman who gave me life. Four years ago. I cried so hard into that sweatshirt. It was hard to recall what she smelled like. It scared me. She's almost gone. Grief is the longest, most painful, most wave-like process. One minute all is well, the next I'm consumed with grief and agony, missing my mother so much it hurts at the back of my throat and my stomach wrenches.

This could be why I've been so slow and down the last week. Her birthday was ending a few hours ago. She's been on my mind all week.