Good gravy, am I really in the middle of my 6th year of this weblog? (I've very slowly become reconciled to the word "blog", but I still don't like it.) What in hell have I been talking about all these years? And why would anyone be reading it?
Mysteries. I like 'em.
So, today is my second day of the miseries -- too tired to move, too achy to want to move. I dunno what's up with all that. Too much rain? Too much sugar? Too much lead in my ass? Don't know. Must do something about it, once I figure out what.
I've been playing around with the Artist's Way since April, doing morning pages and somesuch in an attempt to get back my magic writing skills. Yeah, they evaporated on me from about last August. Once upon a time, I wrote because stories just spooled out of my head. It was like taking dictation from a ghost, I coudn't write it down fast enough. Practically unconscious. Now, no such luck. If I get anything written at all, it's painful and difficult and requires much too much thinking, and once I start thinking about it I start wondering why I want to say anything at all and how badly I'm saying it and why don't I go find a cookie and watch a movie or something? Hey, what's going on in Goodreads? Anyone post to their blog or LJ today? Is that a split end? Did I hear a cat? I could go wash the dishes or match socks...
See what I mean? Just running from writing. And running from this, too -- not a lot of posts here for several months, certainly not the chatty garbage I spewed so easily for so long. Pure puzzlement.
Yeah yeah, I know -- moving is traumatic, being unemployeed is traumatic, no friends or family is traumatic, feeling out of place is traumatic, physical problems like tendinitis and bad knees are traumatic, sick cats are traumatic...blah blah blah de blah. Change, in esscense. Well, when does the trauma end? I'm tired of that. It bothers me that it bothers me. I would like to be done with it, if you please.
No answers, just questions.
Anyway (my all time favorite subject changer) the fishies are fine and there will not be any additions until we go up a tank size, which will not be until we are in a larger and more permenent establishment. Ophelia continues to give mixed signals -- she has some peeling skin and very heavy shedding, which are usually an indication of super high blood sugar, but we aren't sure what the time from cause to effect is on that, and while the shedding is all over, the skin peeling is (so far) localized, and she's still growing fur -- in fact, some bald patches she had have filled in, and the places thevet shaved to take blood are fuzzy with new fur. What's more, she's alert, she's eating and eliminating quite normally, and she even plays a bit. She's still having some problems climbing around, but it comes and goes. So, we continue on.
Right now, I'm thinking she will show signs of failure by August. I'm mentally penciling in August as her possible last month, if all the bad stuff is true. Right now, she's showing no signs of giving up, giving in, or waiting for anything to be over. She's acting like "Kitty who had a cold and a bloodsugar fluctuation".
I need to go upstairs, scrub myself and wash my hair, then get dressed and start dealing with this day. Not really enthused, but resigned.