Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Must write in blog...

Why? Because I think of so much rediculous crap. Everyone else has a stream of consciousness going on the intertubes, so why not me?
Like, why can I not sleep? I had two glasses of tea this evening, and some cookies. Is that all it takes to keep me awake? Or is it all the crap in my head I need to flush out? I don't know. But it's 4:05 and i'm awake. And i'm surrounded by cats. It's like on the Simpsons when Homer stops going to church and he has all his animal friends, and they're with him in the shower and he's like "can i have five minutes guys?". That's my life. Only with cats. I have five cats, four of which are aware enough of my every move to greet me first thing in the morning when i'm trying to pee. I'm glad they love me, but geez, let me have a few minutes to clear my head on the toilet in peace.
Why else could I be awake? Let's see. My job drives me nuts, my kitchen is a mess, i'm not sure which cross stitch project to pursue next, I have osteoarthritis at 26, my husband's friend is getting married this weekend and we haven't gotten him a gift yet, I'm not sure what i'm going to wear, I don't like the girl he's marrying, no one does, I was dreaming about doll clothes, my student loan deferment has run out and I spent eight freaking minutes on hold today trying to straighten that crap out before giving up, my car is filthy, and my best freind's husband is in the booby hatch after trying to kill himself twice last weekend. Plus I flossed tonight and now my gums are all swollen and hurty. I guess that could keep me awake. But this is mostly the same crap that's been on my mind for a few weeks.
So it's probably the cookies and tea. Which is weird since i've never been really sensitive to caffiene, and tea doesn't have a lot of it, and I consume an awful lot of refined sugar with no problems before. But I wasn't really tired going to bed, so I guess that's it really. I'm not that tired for some reason. I will be in the morning.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Get in the wagon.

It's been a rough few months.

Last night one of our kitties was breathing very hard. Struggling really. We rushed her to the emergency vet. She had FIP which was causing fluid to leak into her chest making it hard for her to breathe. All we could do was to put her to sleep. The vet brought in a small label with a black bar across the top. It read "Consent to Euthanize". I picked up the pen and started back crying. I slid it across the table to Josh. He signed it for me.

He kept asking me if I was ok when we got home. I told him I was ok, how was he. Chloe was his kitty too. He said he was sad, but was more worried about me. That in role-playing terms I had a +11 empathy so I'm really vunerable.

This afternoon as I caught up on the sleep I missed last night he took the car for an oil change and then went by the vet to pick up the ashes of Scooter, my hedgehog, who died two weeks ago. I'm sure when Chloe returns to us he'll pick her up too.

The poem Footprints is all about how God carries us when we need him too. Someone should write a poem called Wagon Tracks. Sometimes you both walk with the wagon behind you, other times one of you pulls the other in the wagon. I'm sad to be in the wagon right now, but i'm glad that i'm being pulled.

Friday, March 23, 2007

What the hell is this?

What's this funny looking thing? Here under the job, the house, the massive amounts of cross-stitching projects, the 15 episodes of Law and Order on the Tifaux, and the possible thyroid condition?

Oh yeah, this is that blog thing. I forgot all about it. Well, I guess I could try and keep up with it. Ok, I'm going to set this over here and hope it doesn't get lost again. But i'm not making any promises.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Xmas and the brink of insanity

We got through Xmas fine. We didn't kill ourselves or each other, and that second one was a doozy. I'm being succinct because there is no good way to spend the first holiday without someone you love, and all you can hope for is to not end up plastered and sobbing while watching The Snowman. (Matter of fact, avoid The Snowman all together. It's depressing no matter what.) And with the one year anniversary coming up i'm trying hard to occupy myself so I don't end up as mentally scrambled as I was this time last year. But again, there is no good way to do that. Remembering is depressing. Acknowledging the fact of the day twists the knife. Swallowing your feelings gives you another pain in the pit of your stomach.

But I have been occupied for the past couple of months with moving into our new offices. Of course this isn't the good kind of occupied. It's the fretting over what didn't get done and dreading the first day back with an office full of boxes kind of occupied. But I suppose being annoyed with moving services, dumbfounded at our lack of privacy in the new place and near homicidal at the fucktards who keep putting their boxes on top of mine to be thrown away, eventhough I cut up or flatten my boxes to make the housekeeper's job easier and they don't which makes me look like the asshole is better than being profoundly bereaved.

Of course it doesn't feel that way. Sometime ago, two or three months I guess, I started napping in the afternoon. Not a 20 minute power nap or a one hour refresher. A three or four hour REM sleep affair. I've also been really, really cranky lately. I can't decide if i'm just stressed from work and it will pass or if my meds need adjusting because the depression is back. But where do you go from 60 mg of Cymbalta? And what about my recurring migraines? Related? Not? Who knows.

But I have a three day weekend ahead, a new project and hopefully some rest and peace.