Just when I think everything is smoothing out, the teen gets wiggy. Again. He's less than a semester away from graduating, and I think he's lied to us about his senior project. (He was to direct a play.) I just got a text from him saying two of his cast members haven't been seen at school. WTF? The performance is tonight. He's been staying away from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays for over a month, saying he's at rehearsal.

I don't know, now, if I can believe him. I want to, desperately. But honestly I don't think I can.

And now I'm too distracted to get back into my writing.

I'd already decided that Dad dying happy was the important thing, that if his caregiver gives him that happiness well then, that's it, drug addict or no. There's not much I'll be able to do about it without turning him against me. I can't see that there's anything I can do, or perhaps should do, at this point. So I do nothing and pray.

But my son lives in my house. How do I get him to tell the truth? He's been lying for years, and nothing seems to work to get him to stop.

I don't understand it. My heart hurts and my stomach is roiling. Excuse me, fellow Barnes and Noble folk, while I have a mini-nervous breakdown...