It's called widow humor

Things have been a bit on the hectic side around here. Wee one started school, then we had a little snafu with his teacher (no shitting you, the school called and told me his teacher could not handle having an "orphan" in her class because the potential that he may act up. Trust me, hell hath no fury like me, and after much hissing fitting on my side the school relented their position. But man, COME ON!). I am working three jobs, trying to drive carpool, play Ima AND Abba (and I'm not sure I have the balls to be the Abba), exercising daily, eat (not daily, but that glitch I'm working on if only I could find my appetite. But guess what? I lost a pesky 10lbs, 24 more to go. I call it the grieving diet. I don't recommend it. It's worse then Atkins), and about a million other things. If you know how to work my automated billing, I'd appreciate it because man, hubby's system is pretty friggin whack-o.
I am working on moving out of here (the whole bed bug thing kinda creeps me out), and that is another wrench in my life, but I will say this, there has been a lot of laughter around here. Really dumb things that I find funny. I would share, but like I said, they are pretty dumb.
Like my cousin (also a young widow, do we widows travel in packs?) was telling me that since her husband has died she can see auras, and that she has gotten a bit psychic. Because she wears her husband as a diamond around her neck and he helps her with the psychic thing. Well gee jolly bob, I need to get me one of those diamond husband things. I could use a little psychic whacky-doodle-ness, couldn't you? But I'm guessing it is just this widow humor I keep hearing about, but I have yet to really *get*.
Tomorrow I have to clean out hubby's side of the closet. For a lot of reasons, and I have a feeling it is going to be a day full of tears. I am halfway tempted to just throw the whole lot into garbage bags and pack it up. Or to tear everything into shreds and make quilts for each of the kids. But part of me wants to hang on to the shirt that hubby proposed in, and the one he got married in, and that STUPID t-shirt he always wore because he liked the dumb slogan (Because your dad drank it. Whatever that means). But I guess I am still navigating this whole "grief" thing, so I'll try to let you know how it goes as it goes.