There's no earthly way of knowing which direction we are going.

Today's Title: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

So, here's a sum up of the last 24-hours:
1) Get home from school, have a peanut butter sandwich, take a nap.
2) Go to grandma's house to take in trash cans/fix computer/hang out
3) Come home, watch Big Bang Theory, take a shower
Sounds fine so far don't it? Just Wait.

I get out of the shower to find my mom in hysterics. I go ask Taylor what happened (assuming the usual kind of fight), problem is no one knows. After about a half hour of trying to get her to calm down unsuccessfully, I call her therapist and Taylor runs for the nurse next door. Therapist doesn't answer (typical), nurse says that she's not calming down and to call 911. Next thing I know I'm trying to keep the dog under control while a bunch of paramedics come in and decide my mom should go to the emergency room. Taylor goes with her in the ambulance.

So then my dad and I gather what we need and follow them. We sit in the hallway for a while, then we stand because giant douche bag security guard says we aren't allowed to sit. Of course at this point I stressed out and really want to kill someone (good thing he was about a foot taller than me or I might have done something stupid). It takes until around midnight for anyone to see us, and by that time my mom is calmer and we decide that instead of waiting for another several hours to get a room it would just be better to go home.

So, that was my night. We got home around 12:30. Tried to go to be at that time. Couldn't sleep. At 6:00am told my alarm clock to go fuck itself and went back to bed.

For now everything's alright, but my mom's going to go see the psychiatrist today.

And here I thought maybe things were getting better and I could stop tiptoeing around my mom like she was a glass statue. So much for that, eh?

More later. I'm still wiped. Maybe later this week will be better.

Happy Birthday to me.