5/30/2004 04:50:12 PM|||Amy|||Because if I stop writing, I will go insane. I am alone in the house... sort of. Monkey is asleep in my lap, Winston is asleep in bed, and Bear is spending the day with his friend. I am meant to be doing housework, but I am trapped on Memory Lane. I am remembering the times that we went to Dublin together, how on my last day in Ireland we were so hung over that we walked all over parts of Dublin to try to clear our heads. I remember the times he would come to my flat in Killybegs. The day we brought Bear home from the hospital. I remember how happy I was. I also remember the unhappy times. The time I spoke to a police dispatcher on the phone for over an hour as she tried to keep me from getting hysterical after his car was found in a ditch on the side of a road. (He was found a bit later walking down the road looking for a payphone, then he was arrested for public intoxication.) I remember how I discovered, when I was pregnant with Monkey, evidence of his adultery. I remember the laughter, but I also remember how agonizingly painful it can be when you realize that the one person in the world that you think you can rely upon is the one person least likely to come through in a crisis. I remember how we used to take Bear to the grocery store in the middle of the night so that he could run up and down the aisles, and maybe get so tired he would fall asleep on the way home. I remember all the car rides we took with Bear. There are a lot of memories built up in seven years of marriage - some good, some awful. I had a brief moment today when I felt relieved that this was finally over, but then I swung back into the horrible sadness of realizing that I now have, beyond doubt, one failed marriage to add to my resume.|||108595449135522183|||I can't stop talking about this