Clouds

It’s been a cloudy day… in so many ways…
Yesterday could have been better. I’ve been trying to find the motivation to write about it all day, but with everything else going on… I just haven’t’ been able to.
We decided yesterday—although it’s always been in the back of our minds—that Chester needs a new home. We came to the conclusion that we just couldn’t be his “forever” home. Italics would not let it happen. So we posted him late last night when we got home on a couple of local sites.
I actually got a reply this morning from a woman who lives way out in the sticks. She has a couple of cats and several dogs. She was willing to take Chester and give him a wonderful home. We talked extensively—she’s very adamant about vaccinations and vet visits, she spoils her pets, and she is on disability so she gets to spend a great deal of time with them. I think Chester will be very happy there with her.
The trouble I have is mostly in letting go… in my mind, no one else could ever take care of him the way I would… how could I trust anyone else to take care of him… he’s like a helpless child. I have to remind myself that he isn’t helpless. I also have to remind myself that there are plenty of good people out there… that there are probably—almost certainly—people who take better care of their cats than I do mine, though I would wager there are few. I just… already miss him. I want to go in there and scratch him on his little head, watching drool falling from his chin as he purrs and head-butts me.
 
Anyway… it also doesn’t help that I’ve totally fallen off the health train in the past day and a half. At Bob’s house (Grant’s friend), we had chicken from Chic-fil-A, and I just couldn’t resist the urge to fill the vacancy Chester left with a giant cheeseburger. I’m weak. I know it. If I wasn’t weak, I wouldn’t be this way to start. Still… I’m getting back on the wagon in the a.m. My gym bag for tomorrow is already packed.
 
It’s back to work tomorrow. Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work, I go… Sorry, little song stuck in my head there. I really hope I’m able to cope with all the Boss’s crap. I’m down, in one week, from 2mg of Klonapin a day, to 1mg a day. My husband says in the last two weeks, I’m better than he’s seen me in months. I’m worried going back to work will change all that. I’m worried I’ll have to start taking more of the drugs again to combat the anxiety the Boss instills with his “think like an owner/work harder and longer hours and get paid shit” philosophy for his employees. I have to find a way not to let this job get to me. I refuse to make it my life. I want a job I can be passionate about, but I’m not about to make this my life. I have too many other areas of interest—too many other focuses to make my life about my boss’ goals. Boss may shit a brick if he hears this though, so shh.
 
What I really want, now that I’m backing off the anxiety meds, is to try to increase my creative outlets. I want to start writing again—I need to start a short story… something I can sink my teeth in and start chewing on. I’ve also considered relearning the guitar. Grant thinks I should work on learning that while he’s taking his college course that starts on Tuesday. That might not be a bad plan. I can see it now… sitting in the living room, on my balance ball, with the guitar, trying to read a music book… I’d have to find the damn guitar first. That can be tomorrow’s challenge.
Tonight? Tonight is about finishing this entry. Tonight is about playing a computer game I bought two weeks ago to play over the break that I didn’t OPEN until this morning, didn’t INSTALL until this afternoon, and still haven’t played. Tonight is about going to bed early… reading Dean Koonz… snuggling with a happy Italics and Bagheera… and falling asleep next to a husband. Tonight I totally have covered.
It’s tomorrow I’m going to be needing God’s help on…