September 12, 2018:

She cancels all the time.

Nine times in ten, is how it feels. That might be literally true.

From alcohol or drug abuse. She's sick, she's weak. Or she's jonesing: off with party friends to fire it up again.

She'll text, "I'm feeling run down, I think I'll rest up today. How about tomorrow? I'll have more energy then." Followed later that evening by rage photos posted to her Snap: bongs, bottles, boys, girls, dogs and pillows and lotso passed-out faces.

Or she'll text, "I think I have to work a double shift." Then later post the same photos, from the same evening she repeats and repeats, to the point where from outside it looks pretty fucking monotonous.

It's really fine, I'm not offended. She is who she is. I've accepted her for a long time now.

Fine for me, I mean. I doubt very much it's fine for her.

Morally fine. Not at all emotionally fine. The cancellations can take a nasty toll. Anticipation-then-letdown, where the house is now very big and very empty, and very very silent.