I had a great night with my 11 year old daughter.  We went to a Mexican restaurant and then to a craft store.  She talked about Hannah Montanna all evening...what is it about these pre-teens and their obsessions.  She hung on to me and dragged me all over the craft store.  We were both being silly, but damn, what a great feeling. When I got home my wife ripped into me and asked me if she was still eating like an animal.  I told her no, but I honestly didn't notcie.  She said my 11 year old completely blew it with the 20 year old last time they were together because my daughter sat there at dinner wearing my hat and not saying anything and she ate like an animal.  I'm sorry, they were 40 minutes late for eating with us.  Maybe she wasn't perfect, and I was disappointed with her too, but she's 11 for Christ's sake.  It's very much like she's trying to make me feel guilty for loving and being proud of my daughter. I haven't been able to get my wife out of the house for almost a week now, and she hasn't bathed in that long either.  She's yelling and paranoid and snapping at everyone.  She's on new meds.  She's hopefully going to the University of Michigan Depression Center for evaluation soon.  She scored off the charts for depression, anxiety, and bipolar on their on-line tests.  Her psychiatrist has her on six different meds and is quite frankly running out of ideas.   The trouble with my wife is that she is fucking brilliant.  She can outwit me, the doctors, and her meds to stay in her state.  I'm not saying she's doing it on purpose, but her brains are her own worst enemy right now. Vixy OD'd tonight, and Druid managed to get the London Police to contact her.  He lives in Alaska.  I really hope Vixy is ok, but damn I'm proud of how Druid handled it. I lost my memory key, which means I can't complete the short story I was writing for a competition.  Oh well.  Why bother, anyway.  Even if I win it wouldn't get me anywhere.   Nothing seems to go right. Negative talk again.  Too tired to fight it, but I at least recognize it for what it is.  I'll be better in the morning, particullarly if Vixy is OK. If you are the praying type, pray for my wife.  If it's not to conceted, throw in a prayer for me as well.  I'm going to sleep now.  Goodnight, all.