Tomorrow is six months

But there will not be a breakdown. There will not be solitude or reverence or remembrance. I won't look at the CD of pictures because my new netbook has no optical drive. I will do the dishes and the laundry and some sewing. I probably won't blog. No one will remember, except those that do. Time will go by. I will hold it together. I always do. Until I don't.
I will probably try to clean the mold off the plaster foot casts the evil nurse made and then shoved into a Ziploc bag before they were dry so that now they smell and have greenish-black spots of fuzz all over them. The little hats and stuff all smell of mold too. I do not think I will wash them though. The hat that he wore is in there. I have not smelled it yet. I hate to think that the moldy smell covered that smell, as horrifying as it would be to just about everyone else.
I don't know what else to say right now. This weather is weird and I am drinking very old coffee.