Friday, February 3, 2017

Is it really Friday the 13th?

Today's post is going to be more TMI than usual, so if you have delicate sensibilities, you might want to move on to your next Internet station.  I'm also in kind of a rotten mood.

Yes, I know it's Friday the 3rd, but today has gotten off to a rough start.  It began at 4:30am, when my dogs woke up wanting to pee.  When they wake up, they usually wake me up, and then I have to pee. And once that starts, along comes the daily morning dump, which usually takes two or three turns to complete.  Naturally, that is what happened this morning.  Once I start that process, it's pretty much a sure bet that I won't be going back to sleep.  

Anyway, as I was processing my morning dump, I noticed a private message from one of my sisters.  All it said was to let her know if I got it.  I'm usually nervous when she sends those kinds of messages because it often means she's got some scheme she wants to pitch to me or there's bad news of some sort.  My sister's schemes are often bad news in and of themselves.

Since I was not able to get back to sleep, I looked at other stuff on Facebook.  Yesterday, I posted that I was sick (and I still am).  Most people left appropriate comments along the lines of "Hope you feel better soon."  One guy, someone I knew in college, left me a thinly veiled sales pitch about some nutritional crap he and his wife are selling.  I know he's selling the stuff because he's posted about it a lot.  I unfollowed him and his wife for that reason, because all of his posts were about their new health regimen that they are trying to spread to the masses.  Naturally, they are starting with their warm market, which consists of "friends" on Facebook.

He wrote this:

Sorry to hear you are sick! C and I have been able to limit or sickness and recover in just a couple days. Would love to share how!

I responded that I don't get sick that often.  Even if I did, I live in a place where it's not really conducive to get stuff in the mail, unless I get it through the German post.  And then, there's a chance I'd have to pay duties and taxes, which I will only do for Peet's coffee.  So thanks, but no thanks.

Then Bill was feeding the dogs.  Zane was slow to eat his breakfast, which made me worry.  I started having bad thoughts about mast cell cancer.  I probably ought to leave some of the groups I'm in for dogs with cancer, because there are so many sad stories that get me upset.  I saw a picture of one dog yesterday whose entire left side of his face is a tumor.  Zane seems to have perked up, now that he's eaten and done his business, but I am still horribly worried about him.  

Next, I started productive coughing.  The coughing was violent and eventually turned to dry heaving-- aka, unproductive puking.  I have a feeling it's caused by my untreated cough variant asthma and possibly GERD.  Whatever I've got right now makes me cough.  I wake up in the morning with crap that needs to be hacked out.  My chest hurts from that, and I also have an annoying recurrent knot in my back that refers an itchy sensation to my breast.  If I get Bill to massage the knot, the sensation goes away.  But then it comes back when I'm feeling stressed.  When I'm relaxed, it's less noticeable, but I am stressed today.  I'm also dealing with the tail end of my period, which is always a joy.

I got another private message from some lady that is moving to my town.  Someone I know told her I live here-- acting as sort of a Facebook friend matchmaker.  She has a baby and is looking for "support".  I don't want to be cynical, because she's probably a very nice person.  But I don't know what kind of support she wants.  I hope it's not babysitting.

And then... to top things off magnificently, I took the dogs on a short walk.  I was planning for it to be short because I don't feel well and it's rainy.  The fields behind our house are totally sloppy from the recently melted snow and I didn't want to have to bathe the dogs for the second time this week.  The walk ended up being even shorter than I planned.

As I was walking the boys, Arran spotted a big bird he decided he wanted to chase.  He took off and the leash was ripped out of my hand.  He dragged it through the sloppy field, coating it with thick, sticky, nasty mud that got all over my hands, both leashes, and my very new purple winter coat.  It was too much to deal with for longer than a few minutes, so I walked the dogs back to the house, rinsed the leashes and the coats, and got back into my nightgown.  At least both dogs had the chance to poop.  And at least I didn't fall down in the mud, because that would have just made today fabulous.

I'm now washing clothes and will wash the sheets.  When they're done, I think I'll just go back to bed.  Today is clearly one of those days that it's probably better to just cover my head and hibernate.  And yet, I know things could always be much worse than they are.


  1. What a day! Sometimes all you can do is go back to bed. It's good that you have the excuse of being sick, not that I wish sickness on you or anyone else (actually there are a few people I would risk my Karma on by wishing sickness in their direction, but i'll save that for another time)and not that one absolutely has to be sick in order to decide to go back to bed. Sometimes it's just the best course of action.

    It's only been a bit over a day since I posted a blog bout total non-response to my illness on the part of the decent segment of my relatives. A few people expressed genuine remorse. More were outrightly hostile, directing it mostly to me through my parents. They'll get over it I assume, or they won't, and I'll live without them. My pseudoaunt Jillian sent a brief email just to let me know that the 1/8- size violin that I gave to my Godson -- her son -- for Christmas is on its way back to me because she doesn't want her child to accept a gift from me with strings attached to it (no apparent pun even if it is a violin). I guess my blog struck a resonant chord with her.I haven't heard anything from her husband, so I don't know if he is in support of this move or if he knows nothing about it. I also don't know if i am being removed as Andrew's Godmother. Interestingly, his brother (Jared's dad) who has operated on me a couple of times, sent me an email apologizing. He offered as an excuse that they're still winding down from the fallout of the wedding, but said that was not a legitimate excuse for not even having enquired about my well-being.


  2. I won't be hurt by any response I get from anyone. (except from Chuck; I admit that his responses are physically painful and I groan as I see what I cannot avoid seeing as I send them to the spam folder. I have delayed sending his most recent post away just because I don't want to read even the brief amount I cannot divert my eyes from about what either complete madness or general knowledge of which people such as you and I have been aware since we were, say, ten years old. I'll try to get around to deleting his message later.)

    I posted the message with all sincerity, and I can take the fallout, rude though I may find much of it to be. I'm sure it's embarrassing to my parents, but they've been embarrassed by my words and actions before, and chances are that this isn't the last time they will be.

    I don't really know what to do with the 1/8 size violin. It's been more than 30 days since I purchased it, so the store won't take it back even for exchanges. It wasn't cheap. I don't like to mess with ebay, because there's the potential of sending it out, having the person who buys it develop buyer's remorse, then receiving a damaged violin back from the buyer. I suppose it could try to find place that sells things on consignment, but I don't know when I have time to mess with such things. I suppose I could put it in my closet and leave it there with the hope that someday perhaps either Matthew or I will have a child who can use it. Or perhaps I should just give it to Matthew. He needs money enough that it might be worth his while to try to sell it. I paid just over $500 for it and was told by an expert unconnected to the sale that I got a good deal. I just wish I knew what my Uncle Scott thought about the whole matter and if he was in support of sending the violin back to me.

    It's not the first time Jillian has been a real bitch to me. She was having personal problems at the time I was attacked in the restroom when I was 15. I emailed her to tell what had happened to me. I didn't ask for anything from her. She responded that I needed to grow up and deal with my own problems. That time Uncle Scott found out and quickly apologized. I think sometimes her CF affects her thinking. I hope she's stable enough to be raising children, and if not, that someone is paying close attention to everything she says to them. It appears I won't be in any position to do anything for them. I at least still have one Godchild even if I've been kicked out of the position for Scott and Jillian's kids (if I have; I don't know). The parents of the baby with meningitis still like me.

    Did you ever find out what your sister's urgent message was?

    1. No word from my sister yet.

      I need to read up on your blog. Going to do that now.


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