Oh, I had a rough night last night. Started with a headache. I was very responsible, and after my 14 hour shift, I went to the pharmacy and picked up the Imitrex. Ain’tcha proud of me? Took it home, took a bath, took the medicine. Dude. How do people snort drugs? It was miserable, snorting that thing. There was an immediate rush, then a disgusting drip that lasted an hour. No immediate relief, but I fell asleep, so that was good.
Then I woke at 5am to a cat that wins the Most Irritating Feline award for 2004. And it’s only February. Adah’s found that clawing my new couch wakes me up. Oh, yes. It does. Then I feed her — yes, she thinks it’s a reward, but what am I supposed to do at five in the morning when she claws the couch every few minutes, just as I’m dropping back off to sleep? Digit, because of medical conditions, can’t eat her food, so I lock her in the bathroom. Approximately eleven seconds after she finishes inhaling her food, she hurls her solid little body at the door, over and over. And over. And over. So I get up to let her out. She then has the energy to tear around the house, up and over the kitchen countertops, knocking over anything I’ve left out, up and over my body, up and over Digit’s body. Digit is now PISSED off, so he starts squalling at the door. I get up to let him out. Twenty minutes later, there’s a screaming cat fight outside. He’s tangling with the neighbor cat, like he does everyday. Those neighbors HATE me and my cat (although their cat is always fighting with mine in MY yard), so I get up to break it up. When he comes in, HE wants to eat. In order to feed him, I have to separate them again, so Adah goes back into the bathroom. And starts hurling herself against the door again.
By now it’s six-thirty and I have to get up in an hour. The headache is back, with a vengeance. I finally fall into a nappish state and have a dream about the only ex-boyfriend I feel guilty about. JM was an angel, a beautiful man whom I truly, deeply loved, and then just let go, without much explanation. Two and half years ago, he left me a voice mail (since I was being an asshole and not answering my phone) saying he had a dream of me in which he let me go. Since then, I dream of him a couple of times a year. I see him walking away from me, and my heart breaks. It’s an awful dream, and it means that I have to contact him to apologize. I last had the dream in Venice, last March. I wrote him a letter while seated at a cafe table on the Grand Canal. I didn’t mail it.
I am not ashamed of any of my dealings with anyone. Except for him. Now I have to find the damn letter, open it, and decide whether to mail it or re-write it. But I have to exorcise this regret. I don’t regret not being with him. But I regret my behavior. I don’t care if he ever speaks to me; I just need him to know that I was scared and that I’m sorry.
And it’s all Adah’s damn fault, leaving me lying there, awake, thinking, watching the clock tick towards the alarm….
Back at work, only a 12 hour shift today. The headache is abating now — I think it’s more of a sinus thing today. Cromarty is coming along. Damn, this sweater is going to take forever, but it’s such a pleasant forever. Oh! I have to go test which fiber I am.
You are Shetland Wool.
You are a traditional sort who can sometimes be a
little on the harsh side. Though you look
delicate you are tough as nails and prone to
intricacies. Despite your acerbic ways you are
widely respected and even revered.
Good god. Acerbic? But shetland wool, whoopee!
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