Lost

I'm so far behind in blogging, and there is so much to say, and I'm so tired.

I had yet another break-down today. I suppose that partly it was related to my thinking about Dad, but partly related to frustration. Though I hesitate to mention this because it sounds like a joke, I got lost in the parking garage after teaching today. I remembered walking downhill to the elevator in the morning, and I got on the elevator at Level 5. So as I was leaving, I decided to go up to Level 6 so I could walk downhill to get to my car instead of walking up the ramp from Level 5.

When I was a child, my dad used to give classes on how to give IQ tests to little kids. My brother and I used to help him with his demonstrations. I don't remember a lot of details about the test or the classes, except for this one day and one question. There was a set of questions where Dad would read a story, and we had to tell what was wrong with the story. One day, as I was telling what was wrong with the story, everyone in the class started laughing. I looked at Dad to see what was wrong, and he said, "Honey, I have to ask the question first." After that, I didn't get to go with Dad to his classes anymore, and I felt really sad about it. The story was about a man who would walk downhill to the store and downhill back to his house, and the answer to the question was that he couldn't walk downhill both ways.

So today I'm trying to walk downhill both ways in the parking garage by getting off at Level 6, but somehow I made it down to Level 4, and I didn't pass my car. While I was on Level 4, I knew that my car was just above where I was, but I somehow never made it to that particular row on Level 5, and I couldn't figure out how to get there. Eventually, I found my way back to the elevator on Level 4, and I rode back up to Level 6 and tried it again, and this time I managed to walk past my car. I really think that I didn't even go down the right row the first time, not that I walked right past and missed it. But I'm not really sure. It's hard to see through the tears sometimes.

Sunday was the six-month anniversary of Daddy's death. I went to the Methodist church because I knew I couldn't handle the Assembly of God church. The people at the Methodist church are nice, and I love the organ music and the choir. I'm going back because they will have communion and the Assembly of God church won't because they don't do communion.

The choirs at the Methodist church start practicing for Christmas next week. I'd really like to start going to choir practice. They have bell choirs, too, though I've never tried that before.

I have lots of things to blog about, but I'm too tired. Getting lost is really exhausting.