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Sep. 18th, 2015 07:43 amWoke up. Still felt battered as shit inside my head and in my back/shoulder. Managed to stagger through shower and feeding the ferals, of which two showed up, one who seems to pretty much live on this side of the street now, thank god. One of whom crossed the street all perky and tail up to get fed, thereby nearly giving me a heart attack when his head didn't pop up at the top of the small rise of a hill we're on? And a school bus went by. And then it did, so that's okay, Cassius is okay and I can breathe again. Barton, the one who lives on this side of the street now, I think, I think he's made a nest under our house? Seems kind of rattled. I can't entirely tell? The boy says he scampered when a car sped by, off the porch. Poor baby. I haven't seen Little Bit yet, but I also haven't checked the backyard, which is where she was rolling around yesterday.
The the boy got home and shit got about ten times worse. ( The Worse, in case you don't want to know ) So at this point I'm about ready to pull the covers over my head and say fuck everything I'm sleeping for the next three days. I'm eating my feelings for breakfast again. Tastes like the rest of that Papa Johns cookie.
I don't know. I just. I'm in that mood like from Fiddler on the Roof where, Lord, I know we're your Chosen People, but once in a while, just for a change of pace, couldn't you choose someone else?
I hate this. I fucking hate this. I hate everything about this.
I'm pushing through at least my online education/courtesan school study, because that requires little creative thinking and I think all my creative/imagination centers are burned out right now because if I imagine anything it's going to be something horrible and funereal and elaborate and I'm going to be crying all damn day. On second thought, let us not go to the Heaviside Layer. 'tis a silly place. Or at least not a place I want to be in right now because I really will be crying all damn day.
No, I take it back, I don't want to stay home and sleep, I want to stay home and sleep and clean to reassert some kind of order in my environment, control over my environment, that kind of thing. I might actually come home from work and do that. Assuming I have brain enough to do more than stare at clicky pet games all day. This is going to end up one way or another, hyper-productive do things establish control sublimate my feelings in cookies and getting shit done, or completely and utterly flat unable to even read or do more than look at pretty pictures and sob. Well, it's going to end up both ways, just, I'm not sure which for the next 12-14 hours. Preferably the former.
We've seen three out of four of the expected ferals by the time I got to the bottom of this, and the fourth is probably in the backyard where we haven't gone looking because I don't want to get up from under the blankets on the couch and the boy is looking out the front door at Tasha. So that's okay then. I keep hoping Tiny Bit shows up, and the longer goes without him (he usually shows up somewhere around Cassius or Tasha) the more, well. But Barton and Little Bit don't cross the street hardly at all anymore, they pretty much live under the house or around here. So there's that. That's good. We may go to the local nursery tomorrow and find a small cement cat statue. Maybe some stones to make a cairn.
The the boy got home and shit got about ten times worse. ( The Worse, in case you don't want to know ) So at this point I'm about ready to pull the covers over my head and say fuck everything I'm sleeping for the next three days. I'm eating my feelings for breakfast again. Tastes like the rest of that Papa Johns cookie.
I don't know. I just. I'm in that mood like from Fiddler on the Roof where, Lord, I know we're your Chosen People, but once in a while, just for a change of pace, couldn't you choose someone else?
I hate this. I fucking hate this. I hate everything about this.
I'm pushing through at least my online education/courtesan school study, because that requires little creative thinking and I think all my creative/imagination centers are burned out right now because if I imagine anything it's going to be something horrible and funereal and elaborate and I'm going to be crying all damn day. On second thought, let us not go to the Heaviside Layer. 'tis a silly place. Or at least not a place I want to be in right now because I really will be crying all damn day.
No, I take it back, I don't want to stay home and sleep, I want to stay home and sleep and clean to reassert some kind of order in my environment, control over my environment, that kind of thing. I might actually come home from work and do that. Assuming I have brain enough to do more than stare at clicky pet games all day. This is going to end up one way or another, hyper-productive do things establish control sublimate my feelings in cookies and getting shit done, or completely and utterly flat unable to even read or do more than look at pretty pictures and sob. Well, it's going to end up both ways, just, I'm not sure which for the next 12-14 hours. Preferably the former.
We've seen three out of four of the expected ferals by the time I got to the bottom of this, and the fourth is probably in the backyard where we haven't gone looking because I don't want to get up from under the blankets on the couch and the boy is looking out the front door at Tasha. So that's okay then. I keep hoping Tiny Bit shows up, and the longer goes without him (he usually shows up somewhere around Cassius or Tasha) the more, well. But Barton and Little Bit don't cross the street hardly at all anymore, they pretty much live under the house or around here. So there's that. That's good. We may go to the local nursery tomorrow and find a small cement cat statue. Maybe some stones to make a cairn.