After I finally caved in and called Mom last night, she was all, "It's the one-month anniversary." I gather someone is griping at Mom that she should be over it by now. Um, yeah.

I didn't say, "Oh, I forgot," but I totally did. I was thinking, "It's been a month? It seems so much...longer."

I guess it's rather short, though. In a month we buried Dad, went to Disneyland, went back to work, then I was in a good mood, then I started the whole Wicca dabbling thing, then I was in a bad mood, and all through that I'm just in a mood to loaf around watching television and not actually work on much of anything. While still feeling like I should start Moving On, somehow. Kind of a warped combination to squeeze into 30 days, I guess.

Then I saw this comic. And then I was comparing Fred's Alzheimer's to my grandma's total short-term-memory-gone dementia, where she has to be told Grandpa died multiple times a day. Ouch.

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