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I saw a dishwasher in someone’s yard this morning. It wasn’t set out for the trash at the curb. It looked like it had been very carefully set in the middle of the landscaping: in the front yard, there was a carefully sculpted little shrub, some groundcover… and a dishwasher. It looked like a nice dishwasher, too.

And I got really close to hysterical over the dishwasher. Not funny laughing hysterical, but that weird laughing out of control hysterical. As in hysterics and such. That’s when I realized that all this September 11th stuff is getting to me.

I’m so tired of the news. I’m tired of the news because none of it is news. It’s all the same memory-anniversary-remembering stuff over and over and over again. But if that was all it was it would be okay… but it’s not. It’s all that sad stuff plus all the nervous worrying panic stuff, and it just makes everyone crazy. I’m all keyed up and there is nothing to do about anything. Last year I was frantic but there was stuff to do, because it was a crisis, and however bad a crisis is, at least there are things that need doing. This time it’s watching and waiting and worrying and remembering, and I can’t deal.

But then when I say I can’t deal, I remember that I’m upset because I’ve had all this in-your-face remembrance for the past week. I didn’t lose anyone I loved and have to deal with it being in my face every minute of the past year. And that thought makes me feel pretty small.