I came home from book group, unable to find a Tuesday parking spot, truthfully not an unusual occurrence for a Thursday evening, but grouchier than ever. I came upstairs and began to write:
Remember that old Donovan song, Happiness Runs? Today, crabiness runs. I should have warned folks to put on a hazmat suit before they approached me.
I decided just to call it a night.
Today, I headed out to move said car and did a full body plant on the sidewalk. My left foot didn't clear the kerb. Result: lacerations and sprained fingers. Hard to type. Good news: no broken bones, glasses, or iPhone. The remaining pair of wearable jeans that I currently own did not get damaged. I remembered to relax and roll with it. See how much positive spin I am trying to apply.
I'll admit it is damn difficult to stay out of bed. I am not going to place désespoir quite yet, but I can hear the music from that cafe (Nick Cave?). I am having a tough time not crying and crying. Other than maybe making me feel a bit better, however, I don't think it will help. Deep breaths.
But it is bad enough that I am considering getting rid of Emmylou. She has too much energy and needs too much attention for me and Cooder. Another kitten or young cat might be a solution, but I cannot afford the two I have. Is getting rid of her like suicide, a long-term solution to a short-term problem. I am afraid that I will lose my temper with her unexpectedly clawing my ass or attacking Cooder and actually hurt her.
Breathe deeply.
Keep calm and carry on.
No comments:
Post a Comment