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bad attitude
October 15, 2012, 7:27 A.M.
Only a couple more days off before I have to make my descent back into hell. The time has flown by, and I don't have a whole lot to show for it--got my basement fridge cleaned out and that is about it. Seriously uncooperative weather has made it impossible to get anything of value done in the yard, and frankly, I'm too fucking depressed to make a decent effort inside.
I am depressed. I know that. But I am fresh out of ideas. Nothing helps for very long. And it is the old, old battle--finding the energy to fight this energy-robbing disease. Fighting an illness that takes all the point and meaning out of life. Facing a horribly disheartening world with nothing inside you to indicate that it is worth the high, high cost of the battle.
Spouse and I bought ourselves new bedding the other day, because Sears was having a nice sale. And I certainly know, mentally, that I need to replace the worn-out, thirty-year-old bedspread on my bed. But I just didn't care about it. It was more to make him happy that I went along. It's just a band-aid, anyway, when a room needs painting and the floor refinished and the cracks in the wall patched and the windows re-glazed and this shit pit is completely falling down around are ears and he is JUST FUCKING BLIND TO IT. What the fuck is a new bedspread in the face of that? I bought a new bedspread and curtains, but it will all just sit in a bag in the dining room because I still need to get new curtain rods bought, and installed, and it won't happen. Not to mention cleaning that cluttered and overcrowded and filthy bedroom.
Hormonal hell is visited upon me at the moment, anyway, so I am sure that has much to do with my horrible mood. Mixed feelings about that, though...really. On the one hand--Oh, it's your birthday and you're on vacation? Here's a bad cold, shite weather, and YOUR PERIOD to keep you entertained this week! But on the other hand, what better time to have the hemorrhage and the cramps that when you don't have anywhere you need to be, and you can chill around the house in your ratty bathrobe and a gigantic sanitary napkin?
And in case I didn't have enough on my mind, The B gave us roughly a week of peace, where his energy levels were up and he was in reasonably good health--and now he has another goddam pyoderma--this one between his toes, but on the same leg as before. I have to call the vet and see what they want to do, but I'm sure they will insist on an office visit, another 3-week course of antibiotics (he already takes four pills a day, roughly six hours apart, and that will be three more, 8 hrs apart!)
Honestly--I don't know what to do for this poor guy--we can't seem to keep him healthy for five fucking minutes, and I'm beginning to feel like I don't deserve to have a dog! I only hope that some of this stuff will clear up if we can get his thyroid problems hammered out. They say these skin issues are common in canine hypothyroidism.
You know what? I think I'll go lay down.
Reading: �The Hallowell Partnership" (1912), by Katharine Holland Brown.
Listening: Adele, Jose Gonzalez, KT Tunstall, Norah Jones, Simon & Garfunkel, Leonard Cohen, Gary Jules,
(And I find of funny, I find it kind of sad; the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.) Train, Coldplay
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