later that saem evening...

Deep breath.

So hard to problem-solve when I'm like this. How in the fuck is it that I can't easily lay my hands on my brothers' phone numbers? Fucktard. It's one thing to live physically distant. When did I allow our "connection" to lapse? Scratch that. We were never that close and I'm not the only guilty party here. Argh. None of this matters. Gotta find a phone number, call Marilyn. She'll tell me more than Mike or Scott anyway, little gossip-queen that she is. I think I'm perturbed that she didn't think I would care to know that Daddy is working. I'll think she'll tell me if he's doing okay, though. Plus there's mutual mother-snarking to look forward to. Maybe I have the number on my cell.


Is this helpful? Shit. Can't hurt.