Thursday, July 13, 2017


Some of you who will be reading this post are going to consider it to be a lot of whining.  That's fine. Sometimes I am a very whiny person.  If you don't want to read a lot of whining about first world problems, you might want to move to your next station on the Internet with hopes of finding something more uplifting to read.  I'm in kind of a depressed mood today.

This morning got off to a bad start.  I woke up at 3:30am to the sound of soft whimpering that was barely audible over the sound of the fan Bill insists we run every night.  It was Zane.  He had started the night at the foot of the bed, but evidently decided he wanted to sleep in his purple dog bed.  For some reason, he didn't want to do that until I kicked Arran off the futon stationed behind the dog bed. So Arran got off the futon and came to our bed, snuggling between Bill and me.  But I was wide awake, so I checked my email and Facebook... a total no no.

Actually, there was nothing too inflammatory on Facebook or in my email.  In fact, I read about how two Democrats have filed an article of impeachment against Donald Trump.  Of course, I knew this was coming.  I also have doubts that it will go anywhere, since the fucking government is overrun with conservatives who refuse to see Trump for what he is-- an incompetent criminal who has no business being in the White House.  And even if he does get impeached, it doesn't mean he'll leave office... and if he leaves office, it means we'll be stuck with Pence and Ryan, who are also weird, horrible people who are hung up on religion.  They are sure to take the United States backwards.

So that thought depressed me a bit.  A couple of hours later, I woke up and tried to give Zane some allergy medication.  Maybe it's futile, but supposedly Benadryl helps keep mast cell tumors at bay.  I looked at the big lump on his hind leg that was supposedly diagnosed as a lipoma last summer.  I hate seeing it and the other lumps he's growing as he gets older.

I realize I'll lose him and it'll probably be to cancer.  Zane doesn't know about cancer, so he spits out half of his pill.  I try to get him to take it, but he refuses and I'm too annoyed to try to bribe him with another treat.

So I go upstairs and start stripping the sheets off the bed so I can wash them.  As I am stripping the bed, Zane jumps up on it, making the task harder.  I go downstairs to put the sheets in the washing machine and am confronted by a pile of fresh dog shit on my rug.

Arran, who is about seven years old, has taken yet another crap in the house, despite having been housetrained for years.  He's very weird about pooping, though, and will only do it on the leash if he's taking a walk.  Evidently, he needed to be walked before 6:30am.  What sucks about Arran's pooping habits is that he doesn't stand in one spot.  So there's not a neat pile, but several turds spread in an area next to the door.  Arran senses that he's displeased me, so he hangs his head.

I get dressed and walk the dogs.  That goes reasonably well, except it's often annoying to walk them because they either want to sniff everything or they want to take off, dragging me behind them.  Also, I'm still dealing with the remnants of my cold, so I'm coughing, sputtering, and hocking up mucus.  It's very classy.

I get the dogs in the house and try to dose them with Benadryl.  Zane actually needs the Benadryl more than Arran does, but I give him one a day because he has also had a mast cell tumor.  Arran usually takes his pill with no problem, but like Zane earlier this morning, he decided to spit his out.  I tried to dose him again, but like Zane, he's not interested.  So I say to them, "You know what?  Fuck it.  I don't give a shit."

Both dogs sense I'm annoyed, so they hang their heads while I wrestle the vacuum cleaner out of the pantry.  I hate vacuuming, but I always do it on Thursdays.  There's a lot of dog hair on the floor, but even if I vacuum with a lot of elbow grease, nothing gets really clean.  It feels futile.  I go into the room I made into a walk in closet of sorts.  There are little green plastic things all over the floor.  They are used to hold the tags on Bill's dry cleaning.  For some reason, instead of putting these things in the trash, he throws them on the floor.  I vacuum them up.

I finish the vacuuming, then check a thread I've been following on Cruise Critic's Luxury Cruises board.  I am a bit dismayed and somewhat flabbergasted by some of the snobs who take luxury cruises and post online.  Actually, reading some of the responses on the thread I've been following makes me feel shitty.  It's depressing that some people feel the need to run down other people's opinions, especially on a subject like luxury cruising.

I recently unfriended my cousin and a couple of other relatives on Facebook.  Bill is still friends with my cousin, though, and they have been engaged in a disagreement on my cousin's page.  It makes me sad to hear Bill try to reason with my relative, only to be confronted by his ignorance coupled with condescension and xenophobic tendencies.  As badly I have often felt for not "measuring up" to some family members' expectations, I'm beginning to think that maybe some of my relatives are simply assholes.  And that makes me feel worse.  Here's why...

A few days ago, I wrote about an online friend of mine who was battling breast cancer.  She's a mother of three, has a loving husband, a job, and lots of friends.  She got treated for her cancer, but it's come back with a vengeance and has now spread to her lungs, ribs, and liver.  I don't know what her prognosis is, but she posted the other day that she's had a fever for forty days and feels terrible.  She is currently in the hospital getting chemotherapy.  My guess, based only on what I know about cancer, is that she may not be with us much longer.

I think about that woman and the fact that when she's gone, people will mourn for her.  She has lived a life that means something to others.  She has children who need her and others in her life who love her.

I don't feel like I matter much to most people.  I know I matter to Bill, but if I were to die tomorrow, he'd be alright.  I doubt many of my family members would ultimately care that much if I died.  A lot of them don't even seem to like me, let alone love me.  And, as much as I know Bill loves me, I feel like a burden to him.  I also feel like I came in and crapped on his family.  Yes, I know that he needed an ally to help him learn to stand up for himself.  But I know that people in his family blame me for the fact that his kids have been estranged.  They blame me for not trusting his kids and loving them "unconditionally", even though that's not a very fair expectation of me.  After all, I have only met them once and that was years ago.

I'm getting older and I feel like nothing I've done matters much... and I'm not sure what I can do to matter more.  I waste a lot of time and energy... and every day, it just seems like the world is a shittier place to be.

I have suffered from clinical depression before.  Maybe I'm starting to become depressed again.  I don't know.  I'd like to get away for a couple of days without my dogs, but it's hard to do that.  I know these are first world problems and a lot of people would scold me for voicing them.  I'm being honest, though.  They are getting me down.  I just feel annoyed, hopeless, sad, and fed up.  And when I see a friend who is much needed and loved struck down with cancer while I'm useless and healthy, it makes me feel even more depressed.

So I'm sorry for those of you who are reading this drivel and think it sucks.  I know it sucks.  I know I suck.  I'm pretty useless.  And I know that if I write about this on a place like RfM, I'll get responses from Pollyanna types like SusieQ#1.  I just can't take that today.  So, I guess I'll take a deep breath and make the bed.


  1. At least that asshole MJ isn't at RFM any longer. He would probably encourage you to end it all.

    I'm obviously not there, so I cannot know this for certain, but it sounds like you're the love of the Lt. Col's life. I doubt he'd move on all that easily.

    Would you feel better with an anti-depressant? I've never taken one, so I cannot recommend any.

    Everyone needs to complain once in awhile.

    My dad is here, and he doesn't think this impeachment act is going anywhere. It's his worst nightmare, too. He's more afraid of Pence and Ryan, and how they might get the opportunity to put in enough supreme court justices to do some real damage -- particularly a repeal of Roe. v. Wade.

    My parents have been debating the fan issue since they were married twenty-eight years ago.

    1. Thank God MJ isn't around. He is fun to troll, though.

      I used to take antidepressants. I did especially well on Wellbutrin. But getting them would mean seeing a German doctor and who needs that?

      I know Bill loves me. Sometimes I feel like his pet, though. He doesn't think of me that way, but that's how I feel sometimes. And I am really tired of overbearing conservatives like my cousin. It felt good to kick him off my FB. Wish Bill would do the same.


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