Long day today. Only slept about four hours last night because I am trying to finish some writing and will not rest properly till it all squares up, which it's far, far from doing. Bustled around most of the morning, answering emails, tidying the apartment, doing a short astanga practice, printing stuff for work, packing for my weekend upcounty.
Had to take the train into town to pick up my brother's birthday gift (which I can't afford), and wound up, as usual, in some nutso conversation with a lonely stranger. People are always telling me their plans and disappointments. "You just look like a kindred spirit," someone told me once. I have a nice-colored aura.
Arrived at GCT, picked up said gift, rewarded myself with a coffee (decaf, alas), and boarded the train. Read 30 pages about the socio-politics and ecology of large dams. Trundled to the folks', laden down with about forty pounds of books and technology, a bag of clothes, and a bottle of scotch (for my brother). Walked into the house–empty–and found the cat on the couch. Hours I have spent petting this animal, waiting up for her to come in, feeding her, tending her fight-wounds, etc etc etc. And what's her response to seeing me for the first time in a fortnight? Zip. Zilch. Nada. Just went back, one leg up, head down, tail out, to cleaning her nether bits. Hmmph.
The whole reason I came to the parents' today was to help with housework, so that's what I did. Sat down at about 5:30 totally exhausted. Call from the boyfriend, who took me out for a couple glasses of wine.
We just celebrated 4 years together and I still shiver occasionally when I look at him. He is seriously good looking. Me? I get about 1/10 the attention I used to; then, I put in about 1/20 the effort.
What a week it has been. Cancelled by my bastard health insurance company. Hate to lose the safety net as much as I despise allopathic medicine and just about every doctor I've met these past ten years. No more therapist–a definite loss. Time to take total responsibility for my own health. Scary and liberating.
Got some office space through school (yessss). Once again found myseld called upon to act as sister confessor to a friend going through a midlife crisis. Very glad to do it, but wonder why people always come to me with their secrets, sadnesses, joys, and bits-on-the-side. Set up one 87-year-old friend with another. Meddling? maybe, but I do think they'll like one another.
Buzzed now, and tired. Quite fed up. Work in the morning. Money's been shit for months. Should find another gig, but fucking terrified. And I still can't write worth a damn.
Wish something nice would happen. It's been so long.
