Then there’s the weather. And The Patriarchy. The hose and jackets that are unfortunately de rigeur in my professional weight class are not consistent with personal comfort on public transit in Washington May – October. At least I can legitimately escape hosiery if I wear full-length pants and stick with closed-toe sling-backs all summer. I would rail about hose with skirts and dresses, but I would wear hosiery over a necktie any day. This burden is classist, not sexist. The sexist part is the shoes and make-up. Even “sensible” closed-toe sling-backs (square, 1-5/8″ – 1-3/4″ heels, round or square toes) are dreadful to walk and stand in. And, since women in “natural-looking” make-up are consistently perceived as more competent in psych experiments than women in no make-up, I am resigned to applying, sweating off, and reapplying the concealer, foundation, and powder it takes to make me look “naturally” well-groomed.

Today I am getting the permanent parking pass from my apartment complex, the one that goes with my new state license plates. This will shift the burden of hunting for guest parking every night on to Dino Spouse, whose car can’t get legal in its own right unless we move to a larger apartment and thereby buy the right to add an additional soul to our lease. This prompts a contentious discussion of the circumstances that led to our untimely relocation from Columbia every time we have to search in more than two places for visitor parking in our complex. That’s been twice in the last four or five days. I do not want to move again until April or May of next year, but neither do I wish to refight the battles of Operation Dino Freedom ad infinitum. I predict that we will trade cars soon.

This is almost an 800% improvement over yesterday in that visitor parking at the only garage near my new office that has parking spaces after 8 AM was $24. The trip estimator tells me that my trip to work this morning will cost me $3.40 (unless that’s the round-trip cost, of course – I need to find out. And get a bus map. And a Smart Card.)

The project I am assigned to is quirky and obscure enough that it might be a good fit for me. I am seated in an intern bay at a work station with no walls. So far, though, I am …. hmmm. Bus nap. Ah.

So far I am hopeful that this assignment will work out. Now back to bus nap.

We’re doing OK collectively. But my professional life is in flux again. It looks like the too-good-to-be-true permanent assignment I secured in January was just that, with the end result that I’ve been relaunched into never-ending detail assignment land again. I found out Monday and I start my new mystery job tomorrow. So today I am getting my hair professionally cut and colored (for a change) and going to clean out my old new office. Without a child attached to me (for another change). I am not overflowing with professional confidence at the most settled of times, and nothing has happened in the last few months to enhance my sense of puissance. Throw in the family turmoil of the last few weeks and – well, let me stop. Hyperventilating is not going to help my chances of getting a better hair do.

*I hate the Disney Channel. But some of their tween TV offerings are tolerable. The one I like best, sexist and racist subtexts aside, is “Phineas and Ferb.” The title of today’s offering comes from the sound emitted by the stereotypical Indian brainiac kid when he has trouble finding his inner rock-and-roller.

** Of course, putting the tags on the car is an entirely different matter, and the computer system for generating drivers’ licenses was down, and I haven’t completed the safety or emissions inspections yet. So I will be returning to the Alexandria DMV ere long.

I snapped and fled. It was the right choice in many respects, and it was a choice I regret not making years ago when we hadn’t refinanced the crap out of our townhouse. That being said, my conscience is troubling me with regard to my mother-in-law. Even though she’s never cared particularly about Mother’s Day, it being an American invention, I regret that she will be alone and uncelebrated. I wish she were happy. I wish the boys could see her and hug her without the occasion being poisoned by our mutual rancor.

I also wish we weren’t in a position of driving our credit rating into the ground with the short sale of our home, though at least our Realtor has already brought in two offers within less than a week of bringing the place on the market.

I wouldn’t take any of it back. But I wish I had a setting on my emotions other than “love,” “like,” “whatever,” and “DANGER WILL ROBINSON! I’M OUTTA HERE! LATER, BITCHEZ!” Some middle ground between the latter two would be emotionally healthier for me and probably a lot easier on those who stay in my life long enough to live through the former. I think Dino Spouse has almost forgiven me for being willing to leave him with his mother in the name of my own moral comfort, but now that the adrenaline has stopped coursing through my veins I am starting to regret some elements of my haste. I’ve been given so much love in my life, and my belle-mere has been shown so little …

Falling asleep at keyboard means it’s time for bed. Tomorrow Dino Spouse tackles overtime and his mom’s needs, while I intend to take on the task of getting a Virginia driver’s license and car inspection sticker before taking the kids up for their social rounds and sorting out the stuff in our storage shed.

We (the me and kids version) moved 95% to Alexandria yesterday. Today we were back in Columbia doing domestic errands for most of the day. My goal had been to finish clearing food and random items out of the house, but that plan lost out to:

* Making a run to AllCare when I realized there were no refills left on my empty bottle of Enjuvia (my hormone replacement pills that stave off hot flashes, mood swings, and God knows what other horrors of menopause that will surely present themselves should I miss a dose).

* Assisting Dino Spouse in selecting a laptop from Wal-Mart and configuring it.

* Hyperventilating.

Falling asleep now as I type. Time to go inflate air mattress. Fortunately (a) it’s one that self-inflates and (b) Mouse still thinks it’s a fun adventure to sleep on.

Dino Spouse and I have agreed on an initial separation of three months or so, in which time he may get to know our new environs gradually and train his mother for greater independence. Once he’s ready, the idea is that they will also relocate to NoVA, where he will acclimate her to her new surroundings. Eventually this will lead to a glorious reunion of the nuclear Dino clan.

Her letter of renunciation to my employer was returned to our post box for insufficient address information. I have heroically refrained from tearing it up, opening it, or hand-writing her a detailed explanation of how to address letters for US post. Instead I am giving it to Dino Spouse to return to her with my compliments.

The kids and I moved back into the house Saturday, switching places with Dino Spouse and his mother. They decamped to the hotel in our stead after the cops showed up that afternoon in response to more complaints of babushkin harassment from the next door neighbors. Now that they are the ones in the hotel, they are the ones who need to be relocated first. So our move date is probably slipping.

Gotta sleep now. This much drama really takes energy.

In any event, the kids and I are apartment-hunting and hoping Dino Spouse will decide to join us soon. This sucks. Thank God my parents and sister are around to help this weekend.