I'm so glad I keep a day book, else I'd probably have forgotten a lot of what happened in the last week and a bit since the turn of the new year. Already 2010 - which is easier to type than 2009 and therefore a much better year - has been full of ups and downs, good and bad, joy and misery, an anxiety attack or two, and rather a lot of changes.
I definitely have higher hopes for this year, but then we always do. Why do we treat years as being so 'circular'? It starts, it finishes, it starts over again, and, especially in these last few years, feels like a dog chasing a tail. This has to be for our own benefit in 'keeping time' encapsulated in time frames rather than facing up to the fact that it's as linear as ever and there are no fresh starts.
I decided not to write a list of resolutions, I didn't want to put this year under undue pressure - or myself for that matter - and set us both up for disappointment come December. Better I continue on my track of general improvements on my own schedule - apparently I don't need to live according to other people's schedules, and I'll sleep better at night if I don't.
2009 ended with Helen's death and a whooping thunder and lightening storm that brought everyone out into the street to see nature's fireworks. Yes, I tried to take pictures with my camera phone - I never said I was clever - but I enjoyed the event nevertheless. If I had a real camera, that night would have been ideal lightening photography, our horizons were alight with tongues of lightening. Unsurprisingly, there were a few localised fires through that night, but despite my neighbour's best efforts to be struck by lightening themselves, turning on every light and appliance in their house, we made it to 2010 unscathed.
I spent hours sitting just inside my screen door, sprayed by bursts of rain, feeling the thunder rumble up from the floor, rattle my roof and my bones, and settle in my tummy. I understand the storm passed quickly enough for the fireworks display, but I wasn't up for braving the Hobart Waterfront - when am I ever up for braving those kinds of crowds?
The first few days of 2010 was spent between homework and housework, getting the place ready for room mates due to arrive on the 5th, and preparing myself for sharing my space with two other people. I know from prior experience - hi Shaun! - that I'm not easy to live with, and I'm not good at being around people constantly, so I've been so hyper aware that this situation could be Very Bad ™. My anxiety issues are not good shared living space material, but I think I've found a couple of kindred spirits who understand what it's like to be a bit of a basket case.
January 3rd turned into a bit of an anxiety-fest, in truth. (I'll probably go into detail in another entry.) It was a Murphy's Sunday, where getting out of bed meant a stubbed toe, trying to cook breakfast meant burned food and a fire alarm, or finding the milk went off last week (that sort of day - I don't actually drink milk). Little things compounded until, when I decided to do my laundry, I discovered that my dryer was all but smoking and flaming and burning my house down.
My darling father had turned it upside down when he mounted it on the wall - necessary since I'm too short to get the door open without standing on a chair, never mind twist the timer. Unfortunately, we'd all neglected to think about opening the beastie up and giving it a good vacuum to remove any dust and/or lint that might have collected through the years. Turning it on started an interesting smell that was akin to walking into a salon with hair dryers going constantly, or turning my electric heater on for the first time in a year - hot dust smells, only very strong!
Though not likely to burn my house down, I went into full-on omg-anxiety attack mode. It had been a long time since I smelled that smell, and it wasn't quite like how I remembered it, so I wound up with a house full of laundry hanging on racks, over chairs, door handles, etc. I would discover this when I was onto my second load, too.
At some point I went around, in my slippers, to ask for some advice from my neighbour, who came around, in his socks, to take a look. My neighbour is awesome and he advised me well (dry it on a cool setting for a while, then bump it back up to warm - if it still smells bad, turn it off). A couple of hours later he came back around with the intent to take it off the wall and open it up for me if it was still giving me grief, and after fighting his way through my in-house laundry of sheets and knickers hanging by my front door, we realised that dad had been extra thorough with mounting the thing that he'd also used double-sided tape on the brackets. Not impossible to remove, but 'fiddly' in the extreme.
So, instead of taking it down and dismantling it, he stayed around for a bit of a yarn while I started dinner, during which I mentioned I had a lot of good 'green goods' I could donate to his chickens as scraps if he wouldn't mind sharing an egg or two a week. He said that would have been a great exchange if it weren't for the fact that his neighbours' kids (those from the infamous #6) hadn't killed all his chickens.
Those little hooligans, already known for spot fires and torturing animals, had gone out the back of his property (there's a large plot of land behind our street) where he kept his chickens, and, swinging a piece of pipe, knocked them all dead. All they have left are a couple of little chicks.
I wouldn't be at all surprised if they're a bunch of bed-wetters too.
While he was telling me about this, and I was commiserating with the fact that there was nothing they could do (they'd seen the kids playing with the pipe in the area, and then found their dead chickens, but didn't actually see it happen), I realised that Kulan had been behaving very out-of-character since about the same time, and that this all happened within metres of his dog run.
Queue additional anxiety!
I checked the puppy over and found he was listless and uninterested in anything that usually interests him, and noticed (again) that he's eating a lot of dirt. He'd also had some difficulty pooping (again), but I suspected that could be directly related to all the dirt he's consumed. Still, with pica being symptomatic of worms, and not being too keen on that, as well as worries that those awful children might have done something to my dog, I made an appointment to see the vet first thing the next day - but couldn't get in to see him until that afternoon.
In the mean time, I had an appointment with my psychologist, which was very well timed. I sure needed a rational someone to talk to. I hated that, ultimately, the things that turned me into an anxiety case this time weren't really worth the anxiety, but the point is that everyone has their own gauge and I really need to stop comparing my own mental/emotional states with other people - because I'm not other people.
My psychologist is wonderful.
I took Kulan off to the vet and found that he is in pretty good health, in good condition for his age, and that his back end is still a bit weak after the surgery. I need to add some rice to his diet to help him with passing his business, but he definitely does not have worms.
My vets are also very, very wonderful. As are their vet assistants, who always go gooey around my puppies. <333
So, much assured by the pup's health and feeling less like a mental case myself, I came home and put away what laundry was already dry - because my roomies were arriving a day early.
That day was a bit fuzzy after putting clothes away, because I hit the wine with a vengeance and fell asleep on the sofa - I really needed to knock myself out and relax!
My new roomies arrived sometime late, not quite midnight I don't think, but near enough, and promptly crashed. Poor darlings were so pooped. Unfortunately they didn't have a bed, so one slept on my sofa and the other had some sort of cushiony arrangement, supplemented with snuggly cats.
Which brings me to my other two new roomies - a grumbly but adorable little (omg TINY) chocolate burmese called Nami (apparently short for Tsunami), and a manic, long-legged, bob-tailed moggy called Jangles. Monster has always been my main squeeze, my best friend, and confidante, but he's never been especially friendly with other people, so I'd been a bit anxious about how he'd deal with other cats. He's a 'tolerant' old man, but he's only ever gone out of his way to cuddle with me, or sit on Shaun when he was watching TV because he could be assured that Shaun wouldn't get up and move around much - that cat knows a warm, stationary object when he finds one.
But, he's never been around other cats since I brought him home, so... I honestly had no idea at all how he was going to cope, and I was worried!
Nami and Jangles stayed in Joe and Tania's room most of the time, until an unexpected escape lead them straight across the hall and into my room where Monster was presiding over his corner of the bed. His eyes popped wide, but all he did was watch the cat vanish under the bed, then resettled back into his 'snoozy-face'. Cats came and went in the room for a while, one even half-jumped up to peek at him, but all he did was passively observe and continue snoozing between interruptions.
Nami half jumped up before she saw him and went into growling-hissing mode, then ran away. Monster would have raised an eyebrow if he had one, then resumed dozing. He probably realised that he's easily twice Nami's size, but cats apparently only get hissy and growly in those circumstances if they feel threatened; Monster hasn't grumbled or hissed once, and Jangles only gave a couple of hisses when he was surprised. Jangles and Monster have already been caught smooching and sharing my bed, but Nami only shares the bed if I'm cuddling with her - and she's an incredibly cuddly cat!
The only drawback I see so far is that Nami blends rather well into my decore and there's some worry I might sit on her or step on her before I know she's there. She's an odd soul, though; I've seen her patrolling almost obsessively, along various circuits, for up to half an hour. And she grumbles - or at least sounds like it - with her burmese vocalisations. She's a bit of a tenor/baritone. hehe Jangles is our soprano.
I'm very enamoured by these two, and I don't mind their humans much either. :D
I'm certainly more comfortable with them than other roomies I've had, and I suspect it's because they're much like me in how prepared we are to discuss what's on our mind - I don't have any qualms telling them I'm feeling anxious or nervous. I think there's something really different (and perhaps important) between people who share their lives online and people who don't; people who write about themselves, their emotions, thoughts, and hardships, find it easier to articulate with others who do the same, because there's a measure of 'shared trust', and a sort of.. culture of understanding, I suppose. It makes a difference.
Wednesday was Helen's funeral. So many people came, though my mother was trapped at an abetoire with a cow she was going to put in her freezer - an awkward circumstance and really unlucky timing. She joined us at the cemetary, but it was just dad and I for the funeral and then on to Stanton for refreshments. We heard some lovely stories from her sister and nearest friends, and the choir was wonderful - dad especially enjoyed the song, which was a perfect choice - but her husband broke down and I don't think there was anyone in the church who didn't hurt and cry for him. I tried not to cry too much.
At the cemetary I urged mum to pay her last respects with a handful of dirt - I'd never done that before, myself, so I'm still not sure what the protocol was, but she needed the moment and I don't think she could have done it without some urging. Helen had been a part of our week for a long time, visiting her in Passions, having our weekly coffee and lunch and a lot of laughs. Passions, despite the efforts of Alison and Kirsty, will be more subdued without Helen's influence. We're going to miss her badly.
Dad and I went up to visit Vincent while we were at the cemetary, cleared his grave of weeds and couldn't help but mention that he and Helen would have been fast friends had they ever met. They're now sharing the best view of the valley in Bushy Park.
It had been a long time since I visited Stanton - they've renovated and restored the beautiful old building and turned it into the loveliest Bed and Breakfast - and it was spilling over with people and food. I found myself sticking rather close to dad throughout, though we came across Ange and Anna and it was really good to see them. I hadn't caught up with them since their little girl was still shiny and new, and apparently she's almost three now!
In all, it was a sad day, and I was glad to home safe for a bit of a little cry of my own before my parents came to fix the dryer once and for all. I discovered that my new roomies are very good cuddlers, which was hugely appreciated - Joe especially does those spine-cracking squeezes I love.
The three of us have done a bit of wandering about town and through second hand and antique shops, finding things I had no idea existing in New Norfolk. The fear of finding something incredibly expensive that I'll
really, really want has kept me out of antique stores in general, but I'm glad I followed them through a few - their searches for various furniture items has unearthed a few choice purchases I may make in the near future. >_>
If nothing else, I want a couple of iron irons (you know, those heavy press irons from yesteryear that most people use for door stops these days) to use as door stops. :D
As usual, I had a lot more I meant to write, but endless distractions have thrown me off course, and this is definitely too long for most people to read already. That'll do for an update.
Oh, yesterday was full of migraine. It bears mentioning that I hate summer, the heat, and all the heat-induced migraines the season brings. I'm ready for Autumn now, if not sooner.
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