little_tristan: (Riptide Murray Too Early)
Everything falls apart when I go to the bathroom in the morning. Today when I came back, not only had Willow chewed up the trash, my master monitor had died. I was going to steal the arch-nemesis' monitor long enough to switch control over to the slave, but luck smiled on me. When I unhooked the master, control switched over automatically to the slave. I didn't know that would happen.

The slave monitor sucks a little bit, but it's better than being offline. Or trying to explain to the a-n why I need his monitor, but only for a minute.

Sister and I have been trying to figure out how to get together tomorrow, with her confined to her house and my boys working. She said she'd been told they weren't having dinner because they can't afford the food. Her husband's out of work again and his mother's being a non-contributing leech for the fifth straight year. (At least my soul sucking dickhead nemesis in-law pays rent.)

We don't have time to cook the meal, but I said we could bring pizza and hang out. That's the point of Thanksgiving, right? Hanging out with your family and being thankful for what you have, even if it's Figaro's instead of Butterball? She was good with that. MiL the Hutt was not.

Ensuing conversations in Yahoo chat have escalated the crazy. Now that we're coming over for an hour in the late afternoon, MiL has to climb up on the cross and produce a full Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. This is not a generous act on her part. This is her slaving over a hot stove all day for people she hates so she'll have something to punish my sister with until Christmas. Which is a whole other, but cruelly similar, drama.

The timing will fail, of course, because that's what she does. Always. We'll get there at five, after Russell's worked eight hours, spent an hour getting home, and driven another hour to Sister's, and the food won't be ready. She'll say it'll be another hour or two, and we'll end up leaving before dinner so Russ can get home and go to bed because he has to work on Friday, too. Hopefully McDonald's will be open.

But whether we get to eat at all is irrelevant compared to what she'll do to Sister if we leave before dinner, since she went to all that trouble for us in the first place. I wish I'd never brought it up at all, but Sister gets so unhappy when we miss holidays. There's just no way to save her.

Everyone blames the boys for working but that can't be helped either. They have to finish welding parts for the machine or the orders won't go out and the deal will fail, just like it did before. And our shop lease expressly forbids welding so it can't be done here. The machine has to be on the production line in two weeks and it's not going to be good for much without all these fiddly bits welded together in straight lines. Who knew the electronic designing and software writing were going to be the easy parts? Okay, that's not true. There were no easy parts.

I wish we could stay home and not bother the MiL from hell at all, but I haven't seen my sister since July. I don't want to wait another month.

At least my dentist appointment got canceled so I don't have to go outside. Their portable front door ramps got stolen. I actually have to find a new dentist now. One with a building I can get into. I love these people. They have an all female staff and the receptionist always remembers me. Now I get to go to whatever schmuck happens to not have stairs.

Everyone downtown has stairs. Even the physical therapists and chiropractors. All the good buildings are Historic and immune from current ADA standards. Historically, cripples stayed home. Some traditions just never die.

Oh good. The sky has gone completely black. I need a better look at that.
little_tristan: (Cream of Darkness)
The weather's been semi-agreeable. Monday and Tuesday were just bearable, but rainy. I've been sad, and even though I know why, I'm still being a bitch and taking it out on Steve, who's just trying to live his life. Well, not taking it out on him exactly. I'm not mad at him, just suspecting him of plotting. Which he doesn't do. I can't really see him ever being legitimately accused of plotting evil against anyone. But I've been sad and he's had to bear the brunt of it, being the one who's here and all. Yesterday he made me cry and things are awkward, but it was by saying something kind so I can't explain it without revealing the inner darkness of my cobwebby brain.

But. I went to the pool Tuesday and it was good. Better than last time. Probably just needed a little time off. I was walking and standing and keeping my heels down and everything. Still, good thing there was ice cream in the house when I got home.

I just found this on my desktop. I think I started it Thursday. Wednesday was hot and also free bus day, so Steve and I went to the doctor's office so I could have blood drawn. I was hopeful going in, but when the puncture wouldn't stop bleeding that kind of told me what the result will be. Also, the bruise is huge. I enjoyed having the chance to go anywhere, but Steve is understandably bored. Yesterday we went to the post office to mail books. I don't know how he can stand it.

Cousin Heather is coming over today to play with me. I want to empty Mom's storage unit in Dallas, but Steve wants to leave as early as possible so I don't know if we can do that. Everyone leaves as early as possible. They show up as late as possible and then watch the clock, waiting for it to be time to go. I can't seem to stop crying about that this week. And me crying makes Steve squirm and watch the clock.

Note: This is in no way a complaint about Steve, who is great. It's just my feelings about always having to choose between staying home and being left out, or insisting on going somewhere and being a huge burden that ruins everyone else's fun.

So I'm at a bit of an impasse, which is a tidy little way of saying I'm in hell.

But other than that, everything's okay. I got rejected for a clinical drug trial for depression. It's probably for the best, all things considered, but I am interested in therapies that haven't been tried by other human beings. I'll probably keep looking into it, to see if I qualify for another one later. In the meantime, I'm cheering myself up with inexpensive blown glass jewelry from eBay. And Criminal Minds. Reid brings da happy, and it's something Steve and I can do together.
little_tristan: (Puppy Upside Down Willow)
But it could have been worse. Long version of the story: The other day I was out on the front porch smoking (because I don't allow it in the house, except in Mark's man-cave office). I was gone 5-10 minutes, and when I came back in, the arch-nemesis was in the kitchen/dining room doorway beating Willow with his cane. I started screaming at him, telling him for the millionth time that that kind of behavior is just making things worse (he tries to close the half door by waving his cane around in the dining room (her territory) and hooking the door to pull it shut, which she also hates) and he went off me. There was a lot of shrieking about how I'M the one making it worse (now?) by not having trained her better from the beginning, and it's all my fault that she's a vicious bitch who deserves to die.

Sadly, Steve was out on the side steps having his own cigarette and telephone break (he likes privacy when he talks to his friends, which is totally his right) so he missed the whole thing. I took Will into my room and put up the baby gate, which she's terrified of because she hates inanimate objects that move when she touches them, and stayed in there crying like a fool until Steve came and found us. I told him what happened and explained that it's so awful because "Willow is our puppy of life and hope. Everyone died last year and Willow is the only good thing that came out of that whole God-awful mess (well, and you, of course)." Which made him go all shy and adorable, and eventually got me a hug. He said he couldn't talk to the a-n about it because it's not his place, but he would be willing to talk to the boys about the effect it's having on me (near hysteria), because that's unacceptable. I asked him not to because they know what the problem is and told me to handle it. And venting to Steve did make me feel better.

The next day, I found Doc's old Gentle Leader out in the shop and put it on Willow. She now wears in all day, until the boys come home at least, so I can keep her on a leash and not keep wrecking my arm like I was doing with the collar leash. She does pretty well with it and is with either me or Steve at all times, so she's safe. I also wrote the a-n a lengthy and rather hostile letter telling him she won't be running loose so he can just back the fuck off and leave her the fuck alone.
You can read it here if you want. )

Which brings me to my elbow. This morning when the boys left, I decided to play with Will for a while before putting the halter on. I was throwing her rubber bone and she was bringing it back, having a really great time. Right up until the fourth throw, when she brought it to me and then started playing keep away. I'd reach for it and she'd lower her head or drop it altogether, then hold it up and lower it when I reached again. It was on the third reach that I suddenly lost my balance and remembered as I fell that I hadn't put my seatbelt on. It's such an automatic action, the minute I'm dressed and sitting down I buckle up, but I totally forgot today.

Luckily Willow didn't know what was happening (is she coming down here to play with me?!?), so I landed pretty squarely on her with the right side of my body. This is good because my right shoulder is already nine kinds of fucked, so I rolled off her and landed on my left side. It was loud and scary and I hit my head. I also left my phone in its pocket on my chair, and since I can't sit up at all, it may as well have been on the roof with a dead battery. This being ten (TEN!) minutes after the boys left, and Steve being in the habit of sleeping til seven or eight, I had to make a LOT of noise to wake him up. It took about half an hour of shouting and other things (the third thing he said, after "What happened?" and "Are you okay?" was "Where did the video tapes come from?" My answer? "It was all I could reach and I was pounding them on the floor.") but he very promptly rescued me. He's a small man, maybe 5'6" and definitely weighs less than me, and has a sore back, but he refused to call the fire department for help and did an astounding job of picking up my enormous ass and getting it back into my chair. I gave him a Vicodin after and he said it helped.

So it was kind of my lucky day, even though my left elbow and knee are beautifully bruised. But don't worry, Willow is fine.
little_tristan: (Catloaf mini)
In a weird kind of way. Shortly after I became obsessed with staring out the front window, as I often do in the senseless hope that Officer Sheets will come back and tell me it was all a big mistake, Steve realized that he had pressing business somewhere outside and went for a walk. He does that a couple times a day, probably to get a break from things like this. I was crying when he left and still at it when he came back a couple hours later, which must have been weird (in spite of the warnings). In fact, I ended up calling him back because it was way out of hand by then. The whole episode ended with me chewing some Xanax and curling up under the big blanket on the sofa while we ridiculed Air Force One. Between that and the odd hug, we got through it and I was feeling much better by the time the boys got home. Although altering my med times is probably why it's a quarter past three and I haven't been to sleep yet. )
little_tristan: (Steve Dallas)
I can't fully squee because the big discussions haven't actually started, but I've had two little ones and they're trending in the right direction. I just want to share a little now in case it doesn't happen. For this morning, I was happy.

I might be getting my very own, full-time, live-in, caregiver/housekeeper/handyman/battler of the arch-nemesis! Apparently this person actively wants to give up his life in the big city and live in our basement for no money. Yeah, that sounds weird to me, too, but I've known him for a while now and his references are impeccable, so maybe he just wants a change of scene. And we're pretty open to accepting gift horses, so long as they aren't made of wood.:)

All we really need is Bruder's approval (I don't intend on asking the a-n, since he doesn't get a vote) and, uh, someplace for him to sleep. Cleaning the basement will probably be his first job.
little_tristan: (Kitten Star Me Kitten)
It's a little after midnight and I've made the executive decision to stay up all night. Herr and I both had trouble getting to sleep, but I failed completely while he succeeded after about an hour of false starts. I was considering getting down to it and really concentrating on sleep when I suddenly got sick and had to get up. He's so very tired that he fell asleep again while I was in the bathroom, and I just couldn't wake him again. It's too cruel.

But it's kind of neat being the only one awake in the house. Ranger is sleeping on the sofa behind me, Willow is upstairs sleeping on Bruder's bed, and I don't have to worry about taking them outside. The a-n won't be bugging me, and I'm catching up on FB and my flist without the guilt of "burning daylight". I might even do some writing. So long as the house doesn't get much colder, it'll be a fun night. Well, for another 3 hours. Then everyone else will be up again. Until then, I'm keeping the Netflix very, very quiet.
little_tristan: (Riptide Murray Secret)
Brought to you by my maternal grandmother. Which I guess makes it a Mullins Family recipe? Or Zimmerman? I don't even know. But damn. They're good cookies. Why? Because our family snickerdoodles are thick, fat, and fluffy. There's nothing wrong with the crunchy doodle, but if you like a soft cinnamon cookie, this is it )

Merry Christmas from me and Mom and Grandma Z!
little_tristan: (Kitten Glowing Kitten is Glowing)
Things have sort of come to a head with the arch-nemesis. We had a bit of a dog-related blow-up a couple of days ago (sorry you were there for that, [livejournal.com profile] catyah), and he hasn't spoken to me since. The quiet has been kind of nice but it's also given me time to think. With a little help from my boys, who are very good at shifting my POV. Sometimes I hate that. This is one of those times.

I'm starting to get what senility actually means. In three words: He. Can't. Learn. It's really that simple. When The NY Times online logged him off, as it does every couple weeks, he had me come and log him back in. Only he doesn't ask for that. He says it's not working right and he can't get it to do anything. I've explained the log in concept maybe twenty times, but to him it's a great technological mystery. And it always will be. In fact, this time he said he'd never seen that screen before and didn't know what it meant. He said he'd have to try and learn it some day. When I showed him the card next to the keyboard with the user name and password written on it in his own handwriting, he didn't recognize it. He had no idea what it was. I told him to forget it and logged him in.

He's also relapsed from leaving the soap in the kitchen where I can reach it. At some point in his past, he developed the habit of putting it behind the faucet, and after a couple of weeks of leaving it beside the sink, he just switched back. Presumably because the memory of my shouting at him about it only lasted that long.

So this is where we are. He isn't going to change. He isn't doing this because he's stubborn or mean or trying to piss me off. He just can't learn any new or different ways of behaving. Which means I have to. I'm the only one here who can change, and if I don't, I'll spend the rest of his life in a rage. Which, believe me, isn't fun. And, though this admittedly concerns me a little less, it's probably not fun for him, either. It's probably very confusing and maybe a little scary, having everyone around him be angry all the time and not understanding why.

I don't know exactly what's going to happen--how I'll adapt to this mental paradigm shift--but things are going to be more peaceful from now on. Now that I've fully accepted my part in all this, and the boys understand the source of the trouble (my failure to grasp the true situation up til now), I think we'll be able to work together to make things better for everyone.

Although I'll probably get some books on senile dementia. Best to stay ahead of these things.

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March 2013

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