Edge of my seat.

Maybe that person will call me about that opportunity for Amy today... maybe tomorrow.... maybe not either.  I have to wait till at least Thursday, I think, to follow up.  The meeting is sometime today, and then hopefully some news... maybe I could follow up tomorrow afternoon.

I am on the edge of my seat and filled with so much hopeful anxiety, but also dread that it may come to nothing.  No hope on the horizon, and we'll go back to waiting waiting waiting on waiting list for another call about a possible opportunity.  Our last call about an opportunity was in August.

Like the girl says, she does not deserve the shit that is happening to her at that house.

I don't want to have another month of email begging for them to DO SOMETHING and then finally them scheduling a meeting where we say THE MENTALITY OF CARE NEEDS TO CHANGE and they say I don't see a problem here.  None of these things happened, I'm sure.  Amy, in the presence of we who control your life, will you speak up for yourself and tell us if we are mistreating you?  I didn't think so.  Now, Amy's family, if you would stop emailing us we wouldn't have to have these inconvenient meetings.

A-holes.

We just want to leave.

At three-thirty my phone will start ringing and Amy will desperately want to talk to me about what she can hear her staff saying about her from the next room.  I'll beg her to chin up, shake it off, get in to her book.  Then I will hang up the phone and sob.

Oh, sister.