Skip to main content

Well, that much is good, at least.

First of all, a big thank you to everyone who offered help, showed support, and otherwise responded so warmly to Sunday's post about Cali. I've continued doing what I can to make things as easy and pleasant for her.

Today I figured out how to give her both of her meds--the bluey liquid stuff and the half pill. (It was the pill that was tough to figure out...cat owners will probably know what I'm talking about.)

In the last day or so, I've been partly heartened by people's feedback, but mostly by improvement she's shown--however marginal. She seems to be responding well to the meds (and the TLC :-) ); she's actually been eating and getting perkier.

She's taken to sleeping on my pillow next to my head while I sleep. This morning when I got up, she did part of her little flirty-thing--where she gives you these eyes and then rolls over with a chortle. I almost melted: it was so encouraging & heartwarming to see she isn't just a shell, a worn out husk, of the little girl I know & love: that she's still my funny little calico, if only somewhat.


So that was awesome. Other things aren't as purely fantastic. I'll be working at least 21 hours in the next 2 1/2 to 3 days because of this monster of a floorset at the store.

It's entirely likely they'll keep me on longer than I've been scheduled. And it's also entirely likely I'll allow it--and not (just) because I want the extra pay. I feel such absurd ownership and responsibility for my store; it's probably grown out of my "work-mode".

For all my laziness around the house and out in the world, I powerfully push myself to work hard as I can at work. Sometimes it's easier than other times, but I still try or at least want to. I've joked now and then that I have a manager's mindset in an associate's position.

So, much as I would like to trust my coworkers to take care of stuff (to my satisfaction, that is), part of me still so entirely prefers to do it all myself that if my manager asked, "Chris, could you stay an extra hour...or 3 or 4?", I'd probably say yes before she could finish.

It's definitely something to work on. A big offender in this latest 4th step inventory has been issues of Control. Surprising? Nah.

Comments

Other things that might interest you...

On aging, and fear.

To begin with, I’m not sure you’re aware of it, but I’m middle aged. Oh? What gave it away? Using a blog as my primary literary medium?¹ Hm. But in fact, the APA defines 35 years as the end of “young adulthood.” Yeah. I found out via some shitpost on twitter when I was already 35, so it didn’t sit well with me then either. But my worries about aging began much sooner than that. See, even in my 20s, I feared I’d been wasting my life. I’d struggled with school and life and everything since graduating high school, arguably sooner, and nothing seemed to be going anywhere meaningful . I felt I had a limited social life, a dead-end job, no money, no great travels, a limping love life; I was, generally, a loser, wasting away... There were none of the usual hallmarks of success or happiness. And that scared me. Would my life have been worth it if I continued in this direction? Would it have been a “life well lived” by the end? So, this is my existential struggle. Even now, as I lurch ever nea...

Changing lanes.

I was driving home in some traffic last night when I drifted, in my mind, a long way back (about 20 years) to high school. I was caught in one of those periodic traffic slowdowns as I floated back; you know, those waves of congestion that seem to pass backward through the columns of cars in each lane. (I've heard they start because someone switches lanes, and in response, a rippling emergent slowness travels backward and outward as the cars behind it accommodate the change, one by one.) What drew me back to those younger days was that, back in high school, similar phenomena of congestion took place in the halls between classes, when eddies of young humans would get caught in and around those clumps of those chatting by lockers or retrieving books. Occasionally, backups would occur when groups of people got caught in these eddies, or collided with other groups by the lockers, and slowdowns would ripple back from there. Maybe it's not exactly the same, but as I drove it seemed si...

Oatmeal is tasty.

{slurps up berry-oatmeal-deliciousness} Indeed. I need to work on rebuilding a morning schedule. I can be zombie-like enough that I'll waste a perfectly good morning, and have often slept through many. And, really, it's such a useful time of day.