What the Hell with Everything?

The world has gone off the rails.  This country especially, but really the contagion is spreading far and wide.  What a distressing time we are living through.

In my personal world, there has been one bad thing after another.  Some things are small, such as my favorite fabric store closing, and some things are profound - the death of a 14 year old friend from MRSA.  These overlie the national and international news that becomes more bleak by the day.

I was talking to a friend a few days ago and she said, 'I got to watch the news for 8 years while Obama was in office but not anymore.'  Yes, it's true, some of us can't stomach the nightly toll of hate and insanity.

What's a Pollyanna to do?  I just can't put a positive spin on any of it. 

Not Really an Issue but Kind of…

It’s about the bed but related to sleeping, not, you know, recreational activity, ahem, as it were…

My partner and I both want the same side of the bed.  If you are in it, it’s the right hand side.  We both have our reasons and we both think that our reasons outweigh her reasons.  So far I am winning.

When T first moved in I let her have the right side.  She wanted it and I was in a tolerant mood.  Soon after, however, I said that I needed to switch sides with her.  I said that the other side was too claustrophobia-inducing for me.  It’s the side next to the wall; the bed is a couple feet away from the wall, but still.  I have a deeply ingrained need to be able to bolt.  Domestic violence scars will do that to a person.  I get a little panicky when I feel trapped.

Her reasons are less potent – to me, at least.  She has always slept on that side; her shoulder hurts if she lies on the other side; she is not as comfortable or as able to ‘get busy’ on that side; and her latest, she can’t sleep through the night when she is on the other side of the bed.

In response to her latest I said that she would just have to get used to not sleeping through the night.  I mean, that’s part of aging, right?!  In middle age our sleep patterns change.  She can’t sleep through the night because she is a menopausal, middle-aged woman!  Not my fault!

We were at a stalemate for a while, she refusing to budge and me being bitter and resentful.  Then, she adopted the scared little dog.  HA!

Tanner has special needs.  One of his needs is that he needs to sleep somewhere that he feels secure.  T built him a special bed and put it on the right side our bed.  That just didn’t work.  He didn’t feel secure, it’s right by the door and there is too much coming and going.  He would run to the far side of the bed and hide but then when I would walk over there to get in bed, he would bark and growl at me and generally freak out.

So, I told her that for the dog’s peace of mind we would have to switch sides.  She agreed; reluctantly, grudgingly and gracelessly, but she agreed.  She moved to the wall side of the bed. 

Now that Tanner has relaxed somewhat she wants to switch back to the other side.  I am holding firm on my refusal to move.  She then asked if we could rearrange the furniture so that the left side of the bed was near the door and the right side would be next to the closet.  It’s not an ideal arrangement by any stretch, and I’m not even sure that it would work.  The door would open right onto the bed that way.  Plus, another of my quirks is that I feel much healthier when my bed is facing south.  It took me many years to figure this out, but it makes a big difference for me, especially in this cloudy climate.  I feel a little too idiosyncratic with this additional requirement, but I’m just being me. 

So far, I’m still on the right side.  Thanks, Tanner.  Good boy!

Yes, another.

But, it will be different this time!

Last Saturday we went down to the shelter and picked up another dog to foster.  Not a puppy this time, that was just too hard.  Too hard on T, for sure, because: puppies!  So adorable!  This time, though, it will be different.  Probably too different.  This time we are fostering an old dog.  Here he is:

Handsome oldster, isn't he?!?

His shelter name is Walter, but that didn't work for me because I have a brother with the same name.  Too awkward.  We decided on Angus.  We tried out lots of other names, calling him everything we could think of with a good boy! tone in our voices.  He was picked up as a stray on the 12th and no one has come to claim him.  The shelter originally listed him as a lab cross, but he clearly isn't.  Our best guess is Cattle dog, Australian Shepherd, or Heeler mix.  Hence the name Angus.  I thought that was rather clever.  Soon he will even respond to it!

Here's the thing.  Old dogs don't stand much of a chance at getting adopted.  We didn't want him to have to live the rest of his life at the shelter so we took him in, knowing that we'll probably have him as long as he lasts.  The shelter will call it a foster placement for several months, but after that they will consider it an adoption.  That's ok.  He's super easy going, gets along with the other pets (although, he does want to herd them), walks perfectly on a leash and just wants to hang out with us all the time.  The shelter vet speculated that he was about 10 years old, but who knows.

I wasn't willing to adopt the puppy but I will definitely keep the old dog.

(Photo: taken by me.  But, that is not T sitting behind Angus.  It's a friend of hers.)

What a weekend

Some weekends make one glad to go back to work. This past weekend was one of those.

The worst part:
On Monday, T's youngest niece died. No, not the one that lives with us. This little girl was only 7 years old and her entire life was a tragedy. She was profoundly autistic, and had both a seizure disorder and a bleeding disorder among her various medical issues. She has been wearing a helmet for the past year or so to protect her head during the seizures. Horrible story short: subdural hematoma that couldn't be fixed. Poor, poor little thing. The funeral was Saturday.

The rest of it:
The niece that lives with us was away for the weekend ~ a volleyball tournament that her cousin was competing in on the other side of the state. So, we decide that Friday would be date night. Got some takeout, rented some lesbo flicks and went home to canoodle. T decided to watch a tv program that she likes first and I said, sure, I'll check my email while you are doing that. She is reading over my shoulder and demands to know what one particular friend of mine was emailing me about. I reminded her that we had invited this couple over for dinner and we are trying to pick a date. She became irrationally jealous and demanded to see the email. I refused. I've been hooked up with crazy before and nobody runs my life but me. No, you may not read my email. Either you love me, trust me and want to be with me or you don't. It's actually pretty simple.

Eventually the shouting died down. The evening was ruined.

Salvaged:
T's best friend came over to watch football with us on Sunday morning. That was pleasant. The Seahawks scraped a win over Chicago, the Saints won but we didn't get to see that game.

Monday:
Happy to have a job that pays the bills, and somewhere to go 5 days a week.





I need to get my life back.