We did go to Wellington. We just got back from that, right? And it was fabulous. The perfect mix of good people, cheap booze, old friends, new friends, tobacco, talking, speaking, and social endangerment, followed by actual, bloody brilliant, peace and quiet. Fabulous.
Then we came home. For some reason, I'd expected things to get better, even though we'd only been away five days. Fitzgerald Ave was open, which was progress. I started crying driving down it, which was not.
Some things are back to normal. We have power, phone, internet, water and sewerage, and all appear to be pretty reliable now. We're living in our intact house, with our normal family arrangement.
I... think that might be it.
Karl is working from home now, with an uncertain future.
School has started for the kids again, but over in Halswell - all the way across town, basically. Today, given Rhiana's itinerant support person lives two blocks away, she came here and supervised Rhiana's correspondence, and Rhiana didn't go to school at all. Transport horrors are keeping more than the odd child at home.
So those two things mean no routines, and nobody doing any settled proper work.
Our local mall is a half-pile of rubble. They do plan to re-open, but it won't be any time soon. So, not available, our normal: supermarket, post office, green-grocer, butcher, dry cleaner, tattooist, fish and chip shop, hairdresser, chemist, book shop, clothes shops... any time we need something, finding where we can get it is quite the adventure. And everything takes so much time, especially given the condition of the roads. I did suggest we open up Ferry Road for adventure tourism.
I am utterly wrung out, exhausted and weepy. I carried the Happy from Wellington until a couple of days ago (that place is fantastic for my ego, frankly), and I even managed to get writing again, albeit only in one of the three places I need to be. I have a PA column in my head, but not the energy and concentration to write it.
And I know nobody expects me to have my shit together or be productive, but I need to, for me. This week, too, is going to be Not Great. Tomorrow is Mum's birthday, or would have been. Thursday, we take Rhiana to her last appointment with Scott, and (I'd guarantee) will have to fight for her to get any further treatment at all. I should be totally shitted after that.