Packed into 2

For the past couple of weeks, I've had mum come and go, been interchangeably excited, dashed and tired house hunting, worn an ill-fitting mortar board, road tripped to the Dandenong Ranges, had almost unceasing action in the kitchen and a freezer full of goodies, gotten my hair cut, cuddled my extremely heavy but oh-so-cuddly seven-month-old nephew, been sluggishly job searching, went for an interview -- with a woman who, if sighted by the boy, would have be called nothing short of yahyah with her very pronounced makeup application style, superhigh heels, designer bag and lookatme attitude -- and forced 'selling myself' pass my very sealed lips. Continual dreams of being maintained is a given.

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Last night, I saw someone wearing that same necklace you have. You know, that ugly plastic jigsaw one attached to a chord. Yes, the one you got from _____.

Normally, when I see something that reminds me of you, I feel emotional. Sometimes a stupid, girly kind of emotional, sometimes bittersweet nostalgia.

This time, I was numb. Feeling nothing is a not unpleasant, strange change.