I just got this email from Leo:
I was reading a letter (on a piece of paper) that said: “To login, enter your user ID, password and your email address. Your unique user ID and password are attached.” My immediate thought was: “Attached? This is not email! How can they attach something to a piece of paper?! Someone dropped the ball and now I don’t have an ID or password.”
Oh yeah. One can also attach things with staples…
Yeah, but it’s a funny fail.
Simeon had visitation. I stayed. It went well. He kept calling his mom by his name for me and leaving her to come talk to me which was pretty much awkward. After that I met with his cw who said that they will be recommending he stay longer [there are a lot of reasons why this is the case and I’ll adress those later]. Then his love ’em and leave ’em [that’s the title I give the person who… well I don’t really know what she does, or her position. It’s something in Latin and I can never remember] called and confirmed what the cw said. So, I’m not going to bother scrambling to sort toys or do laundry.
I feel very mixed emotions about court. I want him to stay. I think it will be good for him. I love him. I want him to go back to his mom. I want his mom to do the right thing. I think that would be best for him. I want her to get her act together quickly. The longer she takes the more I get to enjoy him. The longer she takes the more confusing this all becomes for him. Just thinking about all of that makes me tired.
On top of all that, I’m nervous about meeting the judge. I have an unjustifiable guilty conscience and I’m so scared someone’s going to think I’m doing something wrong when I’m not. Then I’ve convinced myself that I look guilty about all the things I haven’t done wrong, so I try not to look guilty, which I’m sure makes me look guilty and shifty and strange. I do this whenever I’m around law enforcement and security cameras. I would never even think of shoplifting (with the exception of that time in 8th grade, which I still feel guilty about and I’m sure contributes to my neurosis) but when I’m in a store with a security guard and cameras, I panic that they might think I’m stealing. I’ve even been followed out of the store by security, probably because I’m looking so sweaty and shifty. So, I’ll come home with news about Simeon, or I’ll go to jail for robbing a bank in Conneticut, which I most certainly did not do, but may confess to if they ask me too many questions.