Hey, it's me...
This week has been terrible. I'm exhausted. My jaw hurts like hell. The entire world is going to shit.
You ever get the feeling like your entire like is a meeting that should have been an email?
I'm so sick of this. I'm just so damn sick of the whole bloody thing... and I'm tired. I just so damn tired.
Right now, all I can do is keep going. I tell myself that for every bad day, there's a good day coming.
There's a good day coming.
Just have to keep going.
Onward
Hey it's me...
Quiet week really. Not much going on, especially after last weeks excitement. Mostly just playing Sims and doing a little painting.
Only down side is my jaw has been bothering me when I chew. I don't think it's my teeth, but the muscles. Not too worried about it yet.
So, yeah, quiet week.
Onward
Hey, it's me...
A generally quite week that ended on a much too exciting note.
Most of the week was kind of up and down. I had trouble sleeping, so I was either overtried or so well rested (having really solidly slept to make up for a night of not sleeping) that I overdid it. But I got a lot of painting done.
However, the way-too-much-excitement came Friday. Friday morning, J asks me if I've seen her cat anywhere. I hadn't. She usually sleeps with J at night and then checks on me in the morning before checking on the ritual morning filling for her food dish. She did none of those things and J was getting worried.
We discussed the last time we'd seen her, the night before, and agreed that it was extremely unlikely she had gotten outside. (No one went outside after we'd seen her and she's afraid of Outside anyway... unlike Hippy, she wouldn't dash out an opened door.) I figured she was just hold up in a cozy spot and would come out when she was ready. I was wrong.
J and D left for work, after D suggesting that the cat might have gotten closed in the garage, since that door had been open. It wasn't Outside, so it was possible. I still figured she would come out when she was ready. I told them I would text when I saw her.
Two hours later, I hadn't seen her and now I was worried. D started texting me, asking for updates and sharing dread theories that the cat had somehow injured herself and was hiding in some secret spot, waiting to die. By this point, I was already worried. Worse, Hippy was clearly also worried... wandering around and meowing as if calling out to her missing roommate.
So, I started searching. I checked all the closets. I checked all the little hiding places I knew the cat had used in the past. I checked under all the beds. By the time I was checking downstairs, Hippy was with me and actually helped me search. I'm serious. That big cat searched under D's bed and in the closets and hiding places she knew downstairs. I even checked the garage, but it's filled with piles of boxes and other things and I could only move the first layer. Eventually, worn out, I went back upstairs and rested.
Then, an hour or so later and having caught my breath I searched again. Then, an hour or so after that, I searched again. Repeat until D, having finished work and unable to sit still dragged his mother out of her office.
By this point, I was fairly confident I had eliminated all but three spots. She was either in the garage, inside the couch (it has a rip in it and it's not impossible the little idiot could have gotten inside) or, against all reason, she'd gotten outside.
Unwilling to started by ripping up our couch, J and D started in the garage.
They found her in the furthest corner, clinging in terror to some camping equipment. Once brought back "inside" the little idiot, covered in dust, came trotting into my room as if to say "you won't believe what happened to me." She then trotted around, making sure the house was where she'd left it and then curled up in my lap and went to sleep.
I figure I'll be sore of a while after, but the cat's fine. (touch wood)
Too much excitement. Ah, well...
Onward
Hey, it's me...
I was worn out yesterday, and I wanted to be clear headed (ish) when I wrote this, which is why this is late.
So, this past week was my birthday. It was a difficult one, because this is my first birthday without mom. Every year, she'd call me on the morning of my birthday and tell me the stories about the day I was born. It was a thing we always did. Honestly, I remember being a little bored with it at times... every year the same stories. What I wouldn't give to hear those stories again.
I'm trying to remember them now, and the damn brain fog is getting in my way.
I remember she would always say - it was a bright, crisp Fall day and the leaves were just starting to turn.
I remember - when she got to the hospital, there were a lot of ladies giving birth that day. Mom spotted one of the women who had a few kids already and clearly knew exactly what she was doing. So, mom kept her eyes on her and did what she did.
I remember - my dad had read somewhere that babies could see bright colors, so he wore a bright (I think red) shirt, so that I could see him.
I remember - Just after I was born, mom looked at me and asked - "Is my baby supposed to be blue?" The nurses rushed over and hustled me into an incubator. Mind you, I wasn't a preemie... I was just cold. I was, by all accounts, actually really big. They put me in this incubator to warm me up and I was bumping knees and elbows against the sides of thing. (I wonder if that's why I don't like really close spaces to this day.)
But my favorite story is this - After all the fuss, mom and I were settled into the recovery room. I was all bundled up and we were both pretty worn out. I was, in the opinion of the nurses, supposed to be nursing, but I wouldn't latch on because I kept dozing off. The nurses got worried and, eventually, the Stern Nurse was called in. She took one look at me and said - "Of course he's falling asleep. He's too comfortable." She stripped off the layers of blankets I was wrapped in, pinched my foot and got me nursing... until I started to doze again. The Stern Nurse just glared at me and I started suckling away like - "OK, OK, I'm doing it already."
Those are the stories I remember. I'm going to put them somewhere, so that every year I can pull them out and imagine mom telling me those stories again.
Every year.
I miss her.
Onward
