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Week 23


Pain index right now, about a 1.5 on the 1-10 scale for emotional pain.
It's always lower when I'm at work.

Insofar as 'healing' goes - and with the reminder that you don't 'heal' from having half of your life amputated - I've grown less raw. If I stop and think about it, deliberately, the sense of loss is every bit as severe as it ever was.
If I don't dwell on it, I don't notice it as much, except of course the same way that I would notice it if my hands had been amputated - I am continually 'inconvenienced' by reminders of what is missing, and I have phantom pains around the empty places.

A few weeks back, I helped a friend out who needed cash, by purchasing some books and videos from him. The books are autographed copies (generic) of various hardcovers by Mercedes Lackey, and I've been reading them. It's reminding me of the times when Penny and I would take a Saturday, or an evening when there was no television, and this was of course before any kind of pervasive internet connection at home, before we had more than a few small videogames... we would load up on books, either at Powells or the library, and lie in bed like lumps reading, with arms and shoulders going numb, and sometimes we'd reach over and rub each other's shoulders or neck, or bring fresh beverages or snacks, and sometimes the cat (or cats) would interrupt to insist that it was time to play fetch with a cat toy.

It's especially funny when I'm in the Reading Room (you know that euphemism) and as I'm reading, Clint will stab me in the leg to get my attention because I should be playing with HIM dammit. He doesn't seem to admire it when I bug HIM when he's using the catbox, so I don't know where he gets this attitude.

Vinnie just comes in, yells at me several times, and then flops on my feet, generally prickling the toes with her claws, or begins licking my ankles, which is not terribly conducive to my finishing the matter at hand.

I've taken to reading some parts out loud, as I would at times when we were reading together. It doesn't really help much.

On the downside - I have to figure out if I'm going to be going down to Redding next weekend. Pat's not called me back yet (he never does) so I don't know what's going on with that, and I need to know if Lisa and the girls will be there.
If I don't go, I'll have to mail or ship some things down there to various people.

And my apartment is increasingly sty-like, and won't be getting better if I can't stop coming home after 10pm. I can't really run the vaccuum that late, I don't wake up enough to run it in the morning, and I just need to stop finding excuses and do it. It's disgusting.

Anyway. Back to figuring out why this stupid test keeps breaking.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
bunny_m
Jun. 23rd, 2006 04:29 am (UTC)
*hugs*

Nothing else really to be said.


Other than:

He doesn't seem to admire it when I bug HIM when he's using the catbox, so I don't know where he gets this attitude.

Duh! He's a cat. The attitude is like the tail, whiskers and claws, (and having the racing-madly-'round-the-house-at-3am friskies,) all just part of being a cat. And bugging their people when they are in the Reading Room seems to be a cat thing. Fortunately, mine only come in and whinge at me, rather than actually biting or anything like that. (Which would get them gently kicked or a book thrown in their direction.)
foomf
Jun. 23rd, 2006 05:19 am (UTC)
He knows though. He come sidling up and has this "I'm gonna gnaw on your shin" look, and I say "Don't even THINK about it" and he runs off with his tail all looped and pretends to claw the walls, "I'm so tough n macho."

(Yes, I speak fluent housecat.)
anita_margarita
Jun. 24th, 2006 09:05 pm (UTC)
I have pointed out to the cats that I never reach over and select a choice morsel from THEIR plates, and I would appreciate it very much if they would not pick from MY plate.

The other night I was making a chef's salad for the work lunch the next day, and I turned away from the box containing sliced ham & turkey, and when I turend back, there was Edith Ann on the kitchen counter, happily gobbling up turkey. "WHAT are you doing?" I shrieked, and she gave me a look that clearly said, "Are you stupid, or what? I'm eating TURKEY."
foomf
Jun. 25th, 2006 08:57 am (UTC)
Clint uses the 'claw and demand' technique to try to share when I'm eating. I have taken to growling obscenities in Cat, which makes his ears go back and the usual flinch, but he stays near unless I whap him.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )