It finally happened.

Ma grandmére est morte. She died this morning, like 4ish I believe. I had to drive down to Boulder with my dad and pick up mom, who really wasn't up to driving home by herself. She's been okay, but it just sort of hit her a little earlier today.

I sure hope grandma believed. She was raised in the faith, but one cannot be sure with grandma. She liked to control her life, and some would choose to control their fate even in death, which means the burny place, and I do so hope she didn't choose there. Nothing to do about it now though.

Ah, irony.

It's s'funny. I finally have a week off to do all the things I need and want to, yet I find myself bored. Lonely too I think, but that's part of the being bored. It's probably just the lack of conversation. I think I get all pent up with words and thoughts, and having no one to get them out to, my brain starts going stir crazy. It's probably making it worse knowing I may not see or talk to anyone all week. Or maybe it's something else entirely. Heck if I know.