Monday, May 23, 2016


N.B. Not a cheerful post.

The June gloom, which we barely experienced last year, is still here in full force. (Yes, I know it is May.) Either the dementors use the gloom as a disguise, an opening in the dark’s vulnerability, or vice versa. The upshot is some uneasy blues, that mental pattering around the edge of the trip wire into depression, despair, or some other kind of a low mood.

Today it is softly sunny and cool enough for a chill. I ought to go out and work on the garden. All I really want to do is get more sleep. Is writing some sort of compromise?

I didn't sleep again, or, at least, not well. As evidenced here, I wrote when I headed to bed, cold sober for two days, having taken some off-the-shelf sleeping meds. I was drowsy but could not find my comfort within the sheets. The short and frequent gyrations for entry into oblivion eluded me. Dozing was seductive but the sought rest eluded me time and again. 

Have I mentioned how noisy it is here with the birds? I do think the garden has attracted more of them this year. They are so raucous that the cats don't even pay much attention any more. As in Brooklyn and Brewster, they often wake me.

The day that Janet would not swim was a tough one for me. I was so frustrated with her that I turned it on myself in the form of too much cheap cognac. It didn't help that I was cooking. Cooking and drinking just go hand in hand for some of us, each pleasure augmenting the others. I mean, it must be better for you than a speedball, right? That's a famous mixing of two pleasures.

Sunday, not a fun day.

The not-so-good week ended with me having to take Janet to the emergency room again. Her allergy recurred, only days after off steroids. We tried various at-home-off-the-net remedies though none seemed to work. She was uncomfortable. I realized it would probably be better for me to just get her seen than to listen to her complain all day and try to be patient with going through several iterations of remedy. I've had longer stays at the E.R. She's medicated and improving I think.

(Don't know if I had mentioned before that her face and eyes were very red and swollen. She said that her skin burned and itched.)

The first blow of the week was that my long term part time gig is in hiatus if not over. Though it is not a lot of money, it certainly helped. For the time being, I have no income. And with Janet needing more rather than less attention, I am not sure beyond spending the time (and frustration levels)  getting government assistance what to do about this.

I was dealing with the no job when I took Scotch to the vet as she was sneezing. Catteries often have respiratory viruses floating around. We can ill afford it, but we can just take it easy for the next week. As the doctor was examining her belly, he found a huge tumor. He insisted on taking an x-ray, for free. Yes, there is something large there. However, we there's no way, unless we borrowed money or took it out of savings, to pay for even an ultrasound or a surgery. So, I get to watch her die or at least become less well. She's still eating and drinking and using the litter box for the time being.

My heart and spirit are broken into many disparate pieces. I came home from the vet's and just slept and read. I suppose I am bit lonely, too, as Janet is my main source of company save for the iChats and emails. 

In searching for a word to describe my current state of mind, I came up with bereft. Cambridge online dictionary as "having to do with something or someone and suffering from the loss." Yes. The loss of so many things. My livelihood. My home. Many of my friends. My mother. My self-esteem. My place in the world. My possibilities. My heart. 

Bereft nails it.


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