So yeah, life is hard. So much has been happening lately and I find myself alternately deeply overwhelmed and feeling powerfully capable. I’ve seen such a positive turn in my emotional well-being in the last few weeks, and I am so amazed by how well I’m dealing with everything. The old me would have been crippled by fear and depression and anxiety to the point of being unable to function, but I’ve been surprising myself every day with how strong and positive I feel about this entire situation. My anxiety is, for the most part, completely gone. I haven’t experienced any depression at all, only normal levels of grief and sadness which is an extremely healthy and productive way to deal with the fact that my marriage has ended. I do fear the vast unknown that is my future, but it’s tempered by the knowledge that I have the capacity to deal with whatever will come and make good decisions for my little family.

Of course there are bumps in the road, and this week has been particularly bad. First of all, the vacuum broke last Friday. I have spent an unhealthy amount of time cursing its debilitated little existence, kicking it every time I pass and calling it terrible names that I can’t write here because my mother reads this. Displaced rage, you say? Perhaps. Perhaps.

The other thing that happened this week was I decided to take Molly back to the shelter. I’m not going to talk about it because it will make me cry, but suffice it to say that I know it was the right thing for all of us. Especially the cats, who have triumphantly reappeared after being in hiding for four months. On top of that, the girls and I have been feverish and miserable since Wednesday. It just plain SUCKS to take care of sick kids when you’re sick too, and there’s no one there to help or stroke your hair or bring you tea in bed. And it’s stuff like that, the fact that no one will be there to bring me tea in bed ever again, that makes me so desperately sad and lonely I could puke.

So in order to avoid the pukage, we’re going to count down Letterman-style the top ten reasons my life is great and I have every reason to celebrate my very existence:

Number 10: I can finally watch Gilmore Girls without a disgruntled man harumphing in the background.

Number 9: Nobody complains anymore when I leave tampons laying around.

Number 8: I am having a good hair year.

Number 7: I can swear at my vacuum and the only person who looks at me like I’m crazy is my cat, but that’s nothing new for her.

Number 6: I never wear outfits that look like this.

Number 5: I took a picture of my butt the other day when I was bored, and this time not even the cat rolled her eyes. I think she was mildly amused by my chutzpah.

Number 4: I tweezed my eyebrows for the first time the other day, and I look smokin’ hot.

Number 3: The only person around here who uses unholy amounts of creamer in their coffee is me, and that makes the bottle last a whole lot longer.

Number 2: My name is not Britney Spears.

Number 1: My name is not Paris Hilton.