...

My mother called me shortly ago to say my uncle died. He's had kidney failure for a long, long time now, so I have hopes that he's in no more pain. He wasn't unwell, though; that's why I am stunned.

Hug your loved ones extra, and be sure they know they are loved.

*we just returned from the animal hospital. My aunt & cousin had to put down their dog due to inoperable tumors the fucking day after big Bill died. What in the actual fuck is going on here? My heart aches for them.

Weight

Dad moves in this week, apparently. Still have to buy him furniture, rearrange his room and the kitchen, buy a regular wheelchair ramp + threshold ramp, get his room wired for cable, set up the tub transfer seat, change his mailing address and buy his food & sundries.

See those two little words waaay at the beginning of the post? "This week"? Yeah. The VA gave dad notice of that on Friday; previously it was two to four months. Thus, stress!

Also the cat got out last Monday and I chased her three blocks and barely made it home on one cane and and and UGH DUDES. Sometimes it's just too fucken much, you know?

Surprise! Bed Rest.

It is pretty friggin great to be living in the future. My body is uncooperative, yet here I lay in bed, typing on a computer that (almost) fits in my hand, sending my piddly little words to the internets. I can't get to the mailbox, but I can watch news from across the planet.

On days like this, I am comforted by our collective human desire to See What We Can Make. We made so many things that assist and include, and both of those are vital to folks like me.

I leave you with these wise words of yore:

CrickCrackCrunch

Those are the sounds my bones are making today because they apparently missed being tense.

In other news, it looks like my father's stupid fucking repossessed car is not being sold until this weekend, not last, which means my wild fucking goose chase is back on. My dad's memory is shit lately, he's doped up on pain pills and has trouble concentrating, so of course, he's the one who has all of the information needed to get this stupid fucking car* back. I've also got to renew the registration, schedule payments for both the lease and insurance, and ascertain if it is out of inspection yet. Once I get the magic code from him, I get to call two places to confirm that they both have said code and release forms, then schedule when in the next TWO GODDAMN DAYS my husband and I can go get this stupid fucking car. Let's hope it is within my driving distance limits.

Enough with that shit, let's talk about happier shit.

The VA sent someone out yesterday to install grab bars in the shower for dad, but hey! they will help me also, and were free. Huzzah!

I made a skirt out of an old Motley Crue tee of my cousin's, and it looks awesome both in and out of ol' Jack Burton.

Somehow I taught myself how to scallop crochet, and am making delicate little lacy collars for my boring old plain tees.

The borough office confirmed with me today, via phone, that we do not need a permit to cut our own trees down in the back yard. I am hopeful that this is not going to fuck us over like the last time they said we didn't need a permit.

Easter was spent with my mom, gran, aunts, uncle, cousin and hub, and it was very nice. We are a loud Italian family with a long history of mangia mangia mangia, so I was very thankful that my mommala made me a bunch of vegan/gf foods. She spoils the hell out of me, and I can't imagine a better mother. She is the shiznit, yo!

And finally, this little fuzzball has been very lovey lately. I suspect it is due to her new habit of pissing outside of the litter box, which in turn is due to my hub's open invitation to all nearby homeless kittehs to come over for free food. Le sigh.

But hey, she's damn cute.

That'll do it for me for now. Therapy today, which means I get to dump all the rest of my brain-shit-balls onto someone who gets paid to listen. 

*I have intense dislike for this stupid fucking car, because my father bought it when he had no money to pay for it or any bills, etc. I know it is not the car's fault. Hush.

Extreme Stressover: Weepy Edition

There is no shame in crying, right? Right. I try not to do it, though, because I'm kind of an asshole who feels weakest when crying. It's stupid, I know. My therapist and I have been working at it for a while now. So. I've been crying like I'm in every lifetime movie EVER lately and I would like it to stop. My eyes are being leaky due to the stress in dealing with my father's hospitalization, terrible bookkeeping and impending move into our house. (and my own depression, etc) I'm not gonna lie to you, Marge; this is not a welcome change in my life. It is the Right Thing to Do, though, so here we are; the fibro-foggy disabled gal is in charge of things.

Yeah, that's a great idea.

You know what else is a great idea? Building a trebuchet in the yard. No one else seems to agree...

Go get some sunshine. That's what I hope to do.

Achievement Unlocked!

Sunshine: acquired
Nommy Salad: acquired
Ridiculous Lol gifs: watched

Changes

Yes, I changed the background. Yes, I am aware it is not the cheeriest image. Yes, I like it.

Hrmm.

Why do we automatically close ourselves off from others when we're depressed? That's kind of when we need them most, right?  Ah, but the stigma, oh that dastardly stigma of actually needing another human being. Of not being invincible. Being weak.

Well, folks, I'm gonna tell you the truth: I am fucking depressed. No shit, you might say! Yeah, yeah; well, sometimes I have to spell it out for my own sake, and you get to come along for the ride.

I used to move around a lot, serial monogamist and all that comes with it. Each time I moved, I hoped I'd finally feel Good. Like I belonged in this life and it wanted me around. And each time, just after getting settled, I'd be right back to my ol' pal depression and all the stupid things he tells me.

"You should totally cry yourself into a ball, that'll fix you."
"Let's punch that wall a few hundred times!"
"Ah, fuckit; no one would notice, and if they did, they'd forget soon enough."
"You're worthless."
"Useless."
"Give up."

He's a right fucking bastard asshole, that one.

So I take the pills, I talk to the therapist, I reach out to people but my shyness/depression/whatever the fuck forces me to scuttle away and hide or they're just not fucking interested, which I can't honestly blame them for feeling.

Hell, I don't even know how my hub has made it this long dealing with me.

But he has, and if HE can put up with me and my various shit, then I damn well can too.

Thank You Jesus Tyson

I just felt the need to post that watching Mike Tyson on Conan tonight is goddamn hilarious.  He really does find himself funny. Also, his story of religion and Jesus was touching. In a dirty way. 


Huh huh huhuhuhuhuhuh *poW*


In other news, I got a few more free classics from Kobo tonight...which is what I've done each night for the past week. Nothing is grabbing me lately, literature-ly. After Edith Wharton's "House of Mirth" and more Frances Hodgson-Burnett than I can list, plus a few Andre the Giant-sized handfuls of other Ladies Novels (aka, shit that happened so long ago you think it's going to be utterly irrelevant but holy crap, it is just dang interesting) and maybe I'm burned out. 


To that, I say something my dear ol' friend Becky once taught me: invraisemblable! It is highly unlikely that I've suddenly stopped enjoying the style of fiction I've been lapping up for a long time. My guess? Depression. That dick is following me around like a stalker with no clue about stealth. 


So now it is up to me to deal with it. Again! Because much like my painful, pointless period, it is going to be a regular occurrence in my life; unlike my period, it will never actually end. 


Dammit; I meant to be all perky and shit here. *thinks...thinks...!*


Well, what you can't see is my stiff back and upthrust little skittle-titties. They're still sort of perky since they're so dang small, so THERE is your perky. 


I will save you from the shit.

Uhhh, What?

I just had a full-on sob fest due to hearing Death Cab's Follow You into the Dark on motherfucken SCRUBS.

There's been some stress going on in here (and by "here") I mean my brain). I need to relax. Um. I need to learn to relax. I think I may be afraid to, though. When we sleep, we are resting and relaxing, awash in whatever our subconscious plays out via dreams. My dreams were mares for a Very Long Time and of late, I'm afraid to dream.

This has turned into a squishy introspective, so I'm going to leave you with this:

Make silly faces in a mirror (or with a kind soul) until you laugh so hard you pee a little.