I’m Free! (again)

2022 has sucked dirty donkey balls! Some sort of disaster every month, and I am so done.

I won’t waste your time talking about each calamity because this post is likely to be too long as it is.

TL:DR = My son, a long-time alcoholic, no longer lives in my house. I may have written about my constant battle to help him off the sauce, but maybe not. Now he’s living with the consequences of his bad decisions.

Back in March, he crashed his bicycle* on the way to work and broke his collarbone. He had no insurance** and was afraid to go to the ER because he would not be able to pay. He refused to even let me see what the damage might be. After a week of trying to drink his pain away (he figured he’d heal eventually, like he always has) he finally consented to let me take him to seek medical help. My pleas until then were rebuffed because (in spite of my best efforts) he is A Man and men don’t give in to injuries. Sigh.

Yup, the ER confirmed he’d really messed himself up and would need surgery. We’d been going round and round for *years* about his alcohol use and I knew he would not be able to have surgery if he showed up drunk. I did some research, but based on his confessed alcohol consumption, I thought we would be okay if he quit cold turkey. NEVER ASSUME QUITTING COLD TURKEY IS A GOOD IDEA! The internet is wrong on this, as will become apparent, and always remember that alcoholics lie, most importantly to themselves.

The surgery went well, but he was discharged very late in the day so it was a scramble to get to a pharmacy for pain meds, which he refused to take.

We had several good conversations over a few days leading up to and after the surgery and he said he drank “3 beers” each night because he has insomnia, which started when he was 13, much to my surprise. He never said anything to me about it – I would have taken him to the doctor because I understand that sleep deprivation can make a person insane and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

The thing is, the “3 beers” he was drinking were 32-ounce, high-test versions, not what you or I might call “3 beers.” That’s about 6 shots of liqueur. Each day. But he was convinced he didn’t have a problem, in spite of 7.5 years of me telling him he was out of control (he’s a very quiet drunk and had learned to hide it very well) and him promising over and over that he would quit if I would only let him stay. Sigh. I know, right? But Mama can’t give up on her only son without a fight, right? I did my best, but the simple fact is he doesn’t want to quit, no matter the consequences.

Back to the story – he continued to refuse pain meds (afraid he would quickly become addicted and then his “life would be over”) and was eating and drinking lots of water (I figured that was the best way to flush his system and get him over the hump) but on day 4 he began to hear things. At first he was jubilant, but something was definitely very wrong.

It’s nearly impossible to see a doctor on short notice, but I managed to get a “consult” which was no help at all, but at least got him into the system.

On day 6 after the surgery he was hallucinating, paranoid and refusing to even consider going to the doctor to see what was going on, so I called our local mental health outreach and two very lovely people came to the house and convinced him to go to the ER just to be “checked out.” I can’t say enough kind things about them – he would not even consider any of my suggestions and I knew something very bad was happening.

I finally got a call from the ER doc, who said she was admitting him for acute alcohol withdrawal. If he had stayed home he would have been dead by morning. That was a wake-up call for me, if not for him.

He spent a week in the hospital, delirious most of it, heavily medicated, but in the end, sober. What a nightmare!

I spent the week cleaning his hell-hole bedroom (I was too keyed-up to work or just sit around) painting, replacing damaged furniture*** buying a new mattress cover, desk, etc. I washed all of his clothes and set up a dresser and hangers so he could live like an actual adult if he made it out of the hospital.

He came home and all was almost okay for a few weeks – he was too weak to do much more than eat what I constantly shoved at him and drink water all day long. He got a prescription for a sleep aid and finally it seemed he was maybe getting better. He refused to wear the sling, but his shoulder healed up okay and he went back to work on a shorter schedule. He refused to open his mail and deal with the medical bills (almost all of which was paid for by the Oregon Health Plan, thanks to an advocate who signed him up when he was in the hospital) and he refused to seek any sort of treatment for his alcoholism.

About 5 weeks after the surgery I caught him drinking. “It was only one!” he protested. “It just sounded like a good idea…” and I lost my shit! I yelled and threatened and promised that if I ever caught another drop of alcohol passing his lips in my house he was out on his ass and I don’t care anymore because I refuse to watch while he slowly kills himself.

Things were better, but I suspected he was drinking. Sure enough, a couple of months ago I smelled *something* in his room, not really beer (he drank some really awful, smelly stuff that would seep out through his pores before the surgery) but something. His hygiene started to slip back into his old ways, and his bedroom slowly became a mess again, but I didn’t find any hard evidence. Until I did.

The day before Thanksgiving he woke late and did not clear the evidence out of his room – he was taking the empties out in his backpack when he left for work, leaving nothing behind that I could find. I hit the roof when he came home from work, poured out the beer he’d brought home**** and told him he was out of my house at the end of the month and I don’t care if it’s cold and wet.

I made him recall the promise he made when he left the hospital to make sure he understood he will have to live with the consequences of his bad decisions. He was very meek and accepting, but I could see his mind racing.

He wanted to go see The Fam for Turkey Day, and I promised I would not lecture or embarrass him in front of anyone. He was showered and acted like he wanted to be there – last year my Sis commented on his “demeanor” which was not good, but this year he was clear-eyed and engaged.

I did tell Mom what was going on before we left, in case he called her once he was out. On Sunday I told him that if he completed a 30-day in-patient rehab he could stay, but not otherwise. He was not able to find a bed (his OHP insurance was cancelled at the beginning of November, but he didn’t know why – maybe should have opened his mail, right?) and of course he can’t be arsed to doing anything else productive.

Reality has slowly been creeping in, though.

Last night was his last night in my house. He’d been avoiding me all week, which was fine. Probably worried I would start yelling at him again, if I’m honest, but I held my tongue for the most part. I did ask a few pointed questions, like did he have a plan, a place to stay, etc. When I asked for his house key he finally realized I am not kidding about any of it.

We had a good conversation – I told him I love him and this is not me cutting him out of my life, but it’s time I stopped enabling him to hurt himself by giving him a soft place to land when he made bad decisions and this is his chance to fly free and live life the way he wants, without Mom making rules.

He has no prospects for a place to stay, but plans to get a gym membership so he can shower. He still has his phone, his job, and his bank account, but no tent or sleeping bag, and it snowed for the first time here last night. He left a bit after 9:00 this morning and I know I’m a horrible person for thinking, “I’m Finally Free!!”

He had to leave most of his things behind, and I said he could stop by and pick things up, but to text first to be sure I was home. If he completes a 30-day in-patient rehab we can talk about him coming back, but maybe he’ll find a situation he likes better than living with Mom. I can hope…

A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I feel like I can breathe again. I wonder if it makes me a bad person that I feel zero remorse or sympathy. I can’t help him and if he refuses to help himself, how long do I keep trying?

*He has always hated cars and their impact on the environment and their expense, so he’s never learned to drive and commutes to work on a bicycle.

**Why let his employer take extra money out of his paycheck for something he’ll never use, right?

***Rather than use the toilet located 6 feet away, he would piss in his beer cans or a gatorade bottle. Did you know that if you leave urine in a beer can, it begins to corrode the can? The can then leaks all over whatever surface it’s on, and, well, it destroys everything in it’s path. I vowed I would never again clean up after a person in this way. Gaaaahhhh!

****I mean, kudos to him for finding a lager that didn’t smell much, but still high-test, two 42-ounce bottles a night, back up to what he’d admitted to before almost dying – 7 shots of alcohol.

 

Well, he did it

The current president of the US just made history – he’s been impeached by the House of Representatives for a historic second time. Of course, that ass-kisser in charge of the Senate refuses to recall the senators to do their duty and remove the current president, but that’s surely no surprise to anyone who has been paying attention.

At this moment, CNN is trying to tell us Republicans are simply misguided and the 10 who voted to impeach the current president are “brave” and have made “the difficult political decision” to do the Right Thing.

I’m furious! To call those assholes “brave” for doing the job they were elected to do after the insurrection at the Capitol last week is so far beyond the pale I can hardly keep from screaming.

In case you don’t know, here’s the oath of office US Representatives take –

“I, AB, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

197 Representatives voted *against* impeaching the man who set a mob on them.

197 Representatives (all Republicans, in case anyone is confused about who is staging a coup) are totally okay with the current president directly causing the death of 5 people. After the events of last Wednesday, another 2 or 3 (the number keeps rising, so these may not be accurate totals today) have committed suicide over the trauma.

197 Representatives are totally okay with the fact the current president set a violent mob on his own Vice President. Think about that. He incited a mob to try to kill his own Vice President. On national TV. Live. We all saw it. We all heard it. And yet 197 Representatives did not vote to convict.

Yes, I understand we need “unity” and “peace,” but that can only happen when the current president admits to his cult that the election was won, legally, unequivocally and without fraud by Joe Biden and that he has been lying to them for well over four years. Until his followers admit they were wrong and pay for their crimes (yes, they were crimes) there will be no peace and no unity.

Remember when they told all those who were distraught over Hillary Clinton’s loss, “fuck your feelings?” Remember how they gloated and bragged that “now those [insert group of people to hate] will finally get what’s coming to them!”

Yeah. I have no sympathy for insurrectionists. I have no sympathy for the crybabies complaining they were maced, or shoved, or put on a no-fly list, or fired from their jobs because those are the very same people who were cheering the macing, physical attacks and shootings of people of color. They staged a failed coup. It’s time for them to go to jail, do their time and then STFU while the grown-ups clean up the mess they left behind.

Do your duty. Stop talking about “unity” until those fuckers have been arrested, tried and locked away. Including the republican representatives in our government who actively fomented a failed coup. Them, most of all.

 

Sorry, Marty, that’s just not true…

I’m not at all sure why so many people are surprised at what happened yesterday in Washington, DC.

From the first moment I heard that awful man speak, telling the world he was running for president, I knew exactly what he was. It was like a terrifying flashback to my time with Captain Bligh, trapped in that abusive relationship, unable to break away because of all the obstacles he put in my path. The daily rants, the commands that I humiliate myself to stay in his good graces, the constant gaslighting, the lies, beating my dog, the Food Rules, and on and on.

I felt sick, but I had faith that Americans would be able to see through his lies – surely no one could say he would be good for this country, right? Surely people would do the Right Thing, even if they didn’t particularly care for Hillary Clinton, wouldn’t they? Surely history has taught us what happens when people like him get a taste of power – those lessons hadn’t been forgotten, had they?

And then he won the election and his followers, including those who worked at my office, rejoiced, knowing he would punish “those people” and confirm their particular brand of insanity. Of course, they don’t call it that, but the rest of the modern, civilized world does, and they laughed at our stupidity.

Until the madness began, and their mirth turned to trepidation.

But surely the American people would regain their senses, wouldn’t they?

People of color began to be murdered in numbers that could not be denied. The orange child declared there were “good people on both sides” and his followers rejoiced.

People began to protest and the orange child declared democrat mayors and governors were a yuge problem and encouraged his followers to “stand by,” fueling the terrible, desperate desire in some people to be a “hero” and “rescue” others from the tyranny that has never existed against white christians. Yeah, I said it – there is no war on christianity and hasn’t been since ancient times.

These are facts, but the orange child did not find them useful, so he incited his base to even more despicable acts, emboldening them with his propaganda, using his considerable clout to whip them into a frenzy he was counting on to keep him in office. Sadly, it was all based on lies and half-truths and conspiracy theories the (ignorant, uneducated, indoctrinated) American public lapped up as fast as they could.

Then, one Autumn day, 2019, a new threat hit our shores and the orange child told his cult of followers it was nothing to worry about and to carry on giving money to the very rich while debasing themselves in every way to prove their loyalty to him.

Now, 361,000+ Americans have died as a direct result of his mismanagement of this crisis and the unwavering belief of his followers that “it will magically disappear on November 3, no matter who wins,” and other such lies. I think we can all agree it hasn’t just disappeared and we are now in a crisis the likes of which the world has never seen, and, for America at least, it’s the fault of one man.

Having lost the election, both the popular vote AND the electoral collage, the orange child then started a round of lawsuits, every one of which was thrown out of court for lack of evidence. His base railed against the imaginary injustice the orange child kept on about, further inflaming them, convincing them their world was ending if they didn’t do something to “save democracy.”

In spite of all evidence to the contrary, his base continued to believe his lies, including some very powerful people in our government who decided to stage a stunt on the House floor during the (purely ceremonial) reading of the electoral votes yesterday.

The orange child went outside to speak with his fans, encouraging them to “stop the steal,” and lamenting once again his loss to Joe Biden.

And then the idiots started rioting, breaking into the Capitol building and causing chaos. For the most part they were not wearing masks and many had traveled from all across the country to see and participate in this spectacle – now they’ll go home (if not to jail) to further spread COVID and keep this country at a standstill even longer.

When a person in power encourages people to “stand by” or “take action” but gives no specific orders, he can count on *someone* taking up his sword to do something stupid – it’s called stochastic terrorism, and the orange child has been using it to cause chaos for four years.

Yesterday I tuned in to see if Mike Pence would do his duty or buck the constitution to prove his loyalty to the orange child. I was encouraged by his speech at the beginning, but then the smug repugs started in with their objections and the riot was on.

I needed to pick up a few things from the grocery store, so I reluctantly headed out at “lunch” time. When I returned, my neighbor, Marty, dashed out her front door, looking almost gleeful.

“Did you see what’s happening in DC?” she asked.

“Of course,” I replied, “it’s shameful what that awful man is doing to this country! He’s a sore loser and people are dying because of it.”

I’m afraid I was not in a very charitable mood and was not about to listen to more of her bullshit about “good people.”

I have never stated out loud what my political views are when talking with Marty. I have tried to gently redirect her more Out There propaganda statements or point out where her “facts” don’t agree with reality, or to remind her she’s a hypocrite about certain hard-core beliefs, but I’ve never been nasty or said we can’t be friends even though we’re on opposite ends of the political spectrum.

I am a good loser – I don’t deal in rumors and I don’t blindly accept lies, but I also admit that our democratic process worked as it was designed to work, and acceptance is the only way forward. I ignored all the “fuck your feelings” and laughter directed towards those who did not go along with the orange child’s agenda, secure in the belief he would be voted out this time around. I did not antagonize anyone who does not share my political views. I’ve tried really hard to be a good citizen and trust in the system. I did not post political rants on this here blog or try to convince anyone their views were not supported by reality.

And then. She told me she “votes with her heart.” She went on to say she votes for the person she feels will do the best job, no matter what their party affiliation. She voted for that man. Twice. I’ve had to swallow my disgust for four long years, and it has become too much.

She saw the look of thunder on my face and took another tack, complaining about how unfair it was that the moment he took office the investigations began.

I pointed out that Hillary Clinton has been investigated for the past 40 years because people just can’t believe a woman could have the brains to reach for the White House unless she’s a baby-eating lizard alien pedophile, yet no charges have ever been made, no indictments, no jail time, nothing at all.

“Well, she should have been arrested for those pant suits!” Marty declared.

And I lost my mind.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if she was a man,” I snarled. “Your guy looks like a baboon in a suit, but you have nothing to say about that, or about all the laws he’s broken, or all the people who are now dead because he fucked up the management of this COVID crisis, or all the 3000+ lawsuits against him, or tax evasion, or inciting people to riot because he’s a sore loser! He needs to man up, admit he lost, and let the sane people get back to the business we voted them in to do. What’s happening today is shameful and the entire world is laughing at us.”

Pretty sure I went on for a bit before I got myself back under control, but I don’t remember what I said in my haste to get the bottled up anger out before I exploded all over our shared driveway. Her look of shock brought me back to reality.

She started backpedaling, more shit about “good people on both sides” and such, but I shut her down.

“There is only one man to blame for everything happening today. Over 360,000 have died, 3000+ die every day in this country. People are going to be hurt and die today. There is no one to blame but the asshole sore loser sitting secure in his office watching the mayhem and laughing. You will not convince me otherwise. I have to get back to work.”

And I went back inside to stew all day about the fact that my neighbor is a hateful person. Judging from her expression yesterday, she is perfectly happy to see chaos in our nation’s capitol if it’s in the name of “stopping the steal” but she roundly condemned BLM protests.

She’s a hypocrite.

She’s a hater.

She’s racist.

She’s armed.

She’s dangerous.

She’s my neighbor.

She’s your neighbor, too.

 

Day 13

I forget how many days Oregon has been under a Stay Home order, but this is Day 13 for me. Day 17 for my son who was laid off from his restaurant job. He’s a bit cranky right now.

Back when this first started, it was sunny and 60* so I sent him outside to start Spring work on the yard. No idea why more people aren’t outside taking advantage of this down time, but MY yard will be spectacular when the weather dries up For Real.

Went to the local County Nursery Saturday (the two workers there were gloved and masked, but we didn’t come within 6 feet of each other – weird!) to get some compost, which is still sitting in my van (have I told you about the van? #vanlife – coming soon) until this latest round of rain passes us by. I did manage to clean out the raised beds, groomed the plants and planted salad greens, spinach and radishes because those will come up at the right time and won’t be damaged by a little cold & wet. The rest will have to wait for the weather to turn again.

I’m very thankful to have a job I can do at home, but it’s frustrating, too – I log in to my work computer from my home computer and control that machine from here. There’s a lag. A really irritating lag. My job requires mouse precision and this ain’t it. I spend a lot of time trying to aim the mouse to compensate for the lag and it makes me want to scream! No, there are no other options at this time. I must learn to embrace the lag. Accept the lag. Become one with the lag. I’m gonna be so screwed when I finally get back to the office. Sigh.

Meanwhile, I’m not doing housework. Well, the bare minimum. Turns out if I have al the time in the world, the very last thing I feel compelled to do it clean house. Who knew?

BUT, I have been cooking a bit and organizing the kitchen cupboards for the second time in 3 months (did I tell you about the mouse?) and have a long list of dishes I want to cook.

Sabu is losing her mind – she goes to work with me, so spending this much time at home is wearing on her good mood and she has become Velcro Dog, just hoping we’ll go out and get in the van. We’ve started walking around the neighborhood just to get out, so hopefully that helps her mood. It would sure help mine if I liked walking in the rain.

Nothing interesting to report, just trying to get back into the swing of writing here, so likely the next few posts will be Catch-Up essays for whatever civilization digs us up after the current crisis runs its course.

I just CAN’T with the politics right now. I am incandescent with rage and unable to play nice, so I will refrain as much as I can.

Wash your hands! Be safe out there!

 

 

That was unpleasant.

Back in February, one of my co-workers went on a vacation. To a wedding. In Thailand. Yeah. You can see where this is going, right?

Yup, he came back to work on the 19th (I think) and had a sniffle. He swore he was fine. There was talk about this new virus, but in that small town no one was really concerned. Yet.

The next Tuesday I woke up from my before bed nap with the shivers. It went on for 3 solid hours. I could not get warm, even under my electric blanket. It finally stopped, but the next day I felt like I’d been worked over by a jackhammer. Turns out the chills will give you a full-body workout! Even my eyebrows hurt 😦

Needless to say, I stayed home from work Wednesday. Called in again on Thursday and the office was deserted. Same for Friday. Went back in on Monday (March 2) and everyone in the office was sick. A couple were out, but the rest of us tried our best to get the job done while feeling like crap on toast.

As more symptoms have been talked about, I realize we all had COVID-19, but of course there were no tests at that time and it never occurred to us it might be more than a usual flu. I stayed away from my son and did the best I could as far as sanitation went, and hoped it would be over quick.

Three weeks later I was starting to feel almost okay, just in time to be told to work from home for the foreseeable future. Sigh.

The worst symptom for me was losing my sense of taste. Not that I was hungry, but even my tea, which I drink all day long, every day, tasted like ass. It was demoralizing, let me tell you. I was drinking all the water I could force down, knowing that’s the best cure for whatever ails you. Lost 14 pounds! Of course, now I’m on lock down and baking & eating bread is all I want to do 🙂

BUT, as an introvert, this is my jam. Stay inside and away from people? You betcha! Sign me up! I have my work (and I’m grateful for it!) and so many projects I’ll never finish, no matter what, one crazy dog, 2.5 irritated cats (they really like their Nap Time and two people and That Fucking Dog are really irritating if their cranky faces are to be believed) and one cranky laid-off son to keep me busy.

On the other hand, we got started on the yard work and my yard is gonna look awesome this year! Today it’s raining, but the compost is in the van, waiting for the right moment to be spread and planted.

Stay home, please. Wash your hands. Remember the person who dies might be someone you love and YOU could have given it to them by not practicing social distancing.

My plague-carrying co-worker is fond of saying, “It didn’t kill you, did it? What’s the problem?” Yeah, Bobby, people like YOU are the problem.

 

Read this

I’ve been away, but still reading.

I’ve been busy, but thinking of all the things I want to say.

I want to write, but then find someone else who says what I feel much better than I ever could.

I’ve been reading and listening to the narcissist apologists, which does nothing good for my mood or blood pressure.

Here’s a little something from a self-aware, diagnosed narcissist the apologists should read:

Knowing the Narcissist

I don’t know him, but I hate him and what he does to others. It’s not a personal hate, but a visceral loathing, the same feeling I have when seeing a cobra standing up, flaring its hood, ready to strike.

If you ever had any doubts about whether or not the narcissist knows what s/he does, here’s your answer.

Something more cheerful coming soon…

 

Snowpocalypse v2.0

Okay, kinda regretting shooting my mouth off awhile ago about the weather dudes and their dire predictions, and here we are in the middle of a 100-year snow storm. Sorry, weather gods! I didn’t mean it, really, I didn’t!

BUT all is not as grim as some would have you believe. Being on the downhill side of the Bell Curve, I went out to gas up my car and buy a few groceries on Sunday just as the rain turned to snow and was home before the snow started sticking to the roads. Of course, I figured it would just be another false alarm and aren’t we all tired of that by now? I’m sooo ready for Spring!

Anyway. The predicted snow actually appeared. It fell during the night, and the early morning hours.

Picture taken at about 0700, 6″ on the ground.

By the time I got up to get ready for work I could see I would not be going anywhere on Monday morning, so I took some pictures (this is the internet, after all) and called the office, which The Boss closed for the day.

The snow kept coming down until there was 10″ in my driveway.

That clear spot under the tree is the only spot in the yard that’s large enough for the dog to poop without getting snow up her hoo-ha.

It finally stopped around noon. People got stupid and began to drive around and get stuck because no one believes in snow chains around here, nor do they understand the concept of a car getting high-centered when trying to plow through wet, heavy, dense snow. According to the News, people were braving the snow to get to grocery stores that were closed because the power was out and they ran out of diapers.

Lets just take a minute to think about that – a significant number of people (enough for it to make the News) ran out of diapers so they risked their lives to get to the grocery store, which was closed because they had no power. Who the fuck runs out of diapers? I mean, diapers were #1 on my shopping list when The Kid was wearing them because to do anything less than buy a package every time I drove by the store that sold the brand we liked was just asking for a poo-nami disaster because that kid could shit in quantities that were scary! I never ran out of diapers – the fear was that great.

It’s not like this little storm was unexpected, either – the weather dudes have been talking about it for weeks, and this time low temperatures and moisture ended up in the same place at the same time and did what always happens under those conditions. Yes, we live in the City, but the power can go out, so you better have something to eat that doesn’t need to be cooked because if your power is out, so is that food place down the street and don’t people even know how to stay home and take care of themselves for more than 20 minutes at a time?

All of this seems so obvious, but watching the News (not FOX) it is clear people are fucking stupid and if you add some snow (even if you warn them it’s coming) they get even more stupid.

One guy got his car stuck right in front of my house. I went out and sat on the porch to watch him for awhile ’cause I’m a bitch like that. He didn’t have a shovel in his car, nor chains. After watching him for a few minutes trying to use his shoes to dig out the tires, I asked if he wanted to borrow a shovel. He declined, saying he lived right around the corner and had cleared his driveway for his car, which was parked under a cedar that was really weighed down with snow and he feared a broken branch. He decided to “drive around the block” before putting the car in the newly-cleared driveway. Uh-huh. That was dumb, wasn’t it? Sigh. He walked back to his house, got a shovel and soon pulled away. That was the third incident in front of my house, and now all the slush is messed up and chaotic, which will make it harder for me to get my car out before it completely melts, which is just irritating.

No worries for us, though – The Kid’s work is normally closed on Monday and they didn’t open today, so he stayed home. There’s no way I’m going to drive until it’s safe to do so, and The Boss wouldn’t have it any other way. I cooked. I napped. I read a book, did laundry, cleaned the kitchen and then napped some more. I’m all napped out, but at this point in the day, it’s kinda silly to “get up” and “get dressed” when it’s snowing again right this minute.

While the humans have been Just Fine, the cats are most unhappy at this turn of events. Even Mr. Big is refusing to go outside. For anything. Fuck that, he says. Which leads to the unpleasant discovery this morning of a puddle of pee on the kitchen floor. Duchess already peed on the kitchen rug, so I set up a litter box in the garage so the poor darlings don’t have to get their widdle pawsies damp. She denied it was her this time. Mr. Big wouldn’t even talk to me, instead demanding I open the drapes and clear off a place for him to sit in the window and watch the snow come down. Harley Quinn, the newest addition, has no idea what I’m talking about and is far too busy doing her best to drive all of us nuts to slow down and have a conversation. The puddle was too small for Sabu, so she got a pass. Sigh. Words were said. Threats of being put outside until morale improved were made. Then we all took a nap.

Here’s Harley Quinn, Diva. She is just as sassy as she looks here, I assure you.

OMG! Those chins! But my hair looks cute, right?

So here we are, maybe home for another day, maybe not, but we’re well provisioned unless the power goes out (gotta do something about that ASAP) and have nowhere to go. I really should get out my knitting or spend some time in the sewing room, but my couch just sucks me in, and Netflix is right there (The Walking Dead for the second time) and I have tea and food and maybe I need another nap…

Y’all be safe and warm out there!

 

 

“Winter” in the PNW

Good morning and happy Monday!

Why should I be so cheerful today? Let me count the ways:

1. Pointy-ball season is over after the commercial spectacle that is the Super Bowl has been played out to its logical conclusion – the Pats won. Again. Yawn. What a boring game! I was rooting for the Rams, but there ya go – at least they kept the Pats to a record low score. While I watched the Game last year (and enjoyed it very much,) I couldn’t manage to stay awake this year. I dozed off as the half-time show started and may I just say that what I heard sucked. Big time. Let college bouncy-ball begin!
2. No Polar Vortex here. Yet. The Weather Dudes have been predicting snow in my area for a couple of weeks now (where can I get a job that lets me be wrong 70% of the time and still get paid?) but so far it just hasn’t happened. We’ve been drier than usual, which is great for my commute, but not so great for Spring’s gardening hopes. And yet, this was the scene outside my house shortly before I left for work –

Hard to see, but that’s snow falling down, not the usual rain. It wasn’t sticking to the road but the flakes flying around made the usual Indy I-5 crowd slow down to reasonable speeds, which was nice. It petered out completely about 10 miles North of Eugene, so my drive went just fine. Darn it! Can’t reasonably ask for a snow day if there isn’t at least 4 inches standing on the road, right? We did have those conditions two years ago, but I doubt we’ll get any significant snow, in spite of the dire predictions of the Weather Dudes. I mean, c’mon! Why does anyone trust those guys?

3. My Family is planning a trip to Las Vegas to celebrate those of us who turn the big 5-0 this year. While I’m not enjoying the process of booking a flight, I am looking forward to enjoying some warmer weather come April and fun times with the Fam.

Hmmm…I guess that’s all I have. Wait! I cleaned house and did laundry yesterday, so there’s that.

Well. That was anticlimactic, wasn’t it? It sure felt like I had more to say when I started this post, but work interrupted (as it should, you slackers!) and now my belly is full of bacon cheeseburger and my brain is pleasantly fuzzy. Still haven’t been able to convince The Boss we need a napping couch in the office, but there’s always next year…

 

Has it really been six years?

Actually, it’s been six years and two three days, but I awoke with a tweaked neck on Sunday and could not sit at a keyboard because, evidently, after nearly 50 years on this earth, I haven’t learned to sleep right. Yet. I’ve been practicing, though, and hope to be a Sleep Master within the next decade.

I know it’s been traditional for me to post a re-cap here on the anniversary of leaving an abusive narcissist, but I just can’t be arsed right now. Blame my succumbing to not one, but two knock-you-flat colds so far this year. Blame the government shutdown. Or incels. Or the current culture of hatred in my country. I don’t even know where to start, and there are many, many bloggers who are saying what I would say if only I had the lovely words instead of this red mist of rage clouding my eyes.

Remember when I posted several times a week? Yeah, me, too. Those were the Good Ol’ Days, amiright? The days of ranting against the latest indignity heaped upon me by Captain Bligh, or trying to figure out just how in the hell I’d allowed my life to be blown up by someone who did not care one whit about my well being are long gone in the face of the cruelties and insanity being heaped upon all of us by a traitorous administration bent on sending us straight into the Handmaid’s Tale. My little life pales in comparison and I’ve not been able to muster the enthusiasm to scream into the void because it all seems rather pointless, doesn’t it?

So, let’s take this blog in another direction, shall we? Oh, I’ll still be posting through the lens of having survived a vile narcissist, and my leanings (obviously) are still feminist, leftist, #metoo and equality for all, and that’s not likely to change, we’re just gonna open things up a bit and post about “ordinary” things. Like a fireside chat, right?

As always, please post any questions you have in the comments section 🙂

Here’s a song I enjoy:

 

I just don’t even…

Know what to say any more. The world is burning and Lord Dampnut is pouring gasoline on the fire. We’re either going to end up in some kind of civil war, or living The Handmaid’s Tale. Pretty sure the GOP would be happy either way…

I am sick at the thought of a lying, drunk, serial sexual predator being appointed to a seat on the highest court in our land. That a whiney-baby like him is being held up as some sort of paragon of virtue makes me incandescent with rage.

Why am I surprised, though? The idiots who elected POTUS knew what they were voting for and they didn’t care. Now we all get to suffer. Oh, wait! I meant to say now the 99% get to suffer.

Deep breath.

Remember, half of all people are below average.