Monthly Archives: February 2016

Why wasn’t it enough sleep?

When is it enough, not enough, and/or too much?

Lucy woke me early so I took her out, and I took Gavin out. Then I fed them and had a cup of coffee. I wasn’t exhausted but soon felt the downward tug of my eyelids as I tried to focus on my Age of Empires; Castle Siege game.

The couch called my name and Lucy wanted a cuddle buddy too. I tried. I did.

However, Gavin decided about then that he needed to go out again. The Curmudgeon failed to rise from his seat so I got up and took Gavin out, and Lucy too since she decided she could go.

My eyelids still heavy, I decided to leave The Curmudgeon alone with the dogs and seek out my bed that I haven’t slept in since October.

I slept.

I slept all day.

I woke at five to the sound of Lucy screaming for her dinner. The Curmudgeon was taking too long to suit her. I went downstairs, finished getting the dogs’ dinners, and then ours.

Later, sitting in front of my computer, I felt my eyelids striving to close again.

Aw. Come on. You slept all day!

Lucy sleeping

Lucy sleeping

More coffee, please!

Some days it feels as though there’s not enough coffee in the world to wake me.

Yesterday was one of those days. I dragged ass all day.

What sleep I’d had, had come in fits and starts and without much rest.

hippo coffeeYep, I looked like this.


A bit better

Something as simple as a haircut can lift one’s flagging spirits. I know it did mine yesterday.

Especially when it tied into much kindness from two ladies, one known, and another a stranger to me.

The known, my hairdresser, she did me a kindness I won’t forget.

The stranger, a customer of hers who joined in on our conversation about hospitals and costs of medicines and other things involved with The Curmudgeon’s care, who had my hairdresser slip me a gift card.

After I got to my car, I sat there and cried a bit. I’d had a rough morning and an argument with The Curmudgeon. The two kindnesses were a bit overwhelming.

warm fuzzy

Gavin has some Seussian thoughts

I do not like the vet’s.

I do not like the vet’s here or there.

I do not like the vet’s anywhere.

I do not like them on my leash.

I do not like them can’t you see?

I do not like to go there by car.

I do not like the vet’s by far.

Please, Mommy take me home.


Lucy’s traumatic beginnings

She came to us as a rescue who, at one time, was found running the streets. I imagine her traumas must have included fireworks and other loud noises.

She’s terrified of thunder and fireworks. One bang or boom and she’s in her crate like a shot and hides as far back in it as she can get. She has, on occasion, buried herself under her cushion.

I’ve tried to keep her  on the couch with me, but she never stays. At least she finds some form of security in her crate.



I wanna get outta here

How does one convince a stubborn old man that a move to another locale could be the best thing ever?

He’s lived in the same house for 63 years. I’ve lived with him in it for 42 years and have hated the house from day one. Even after tearing out walls and stuff, the house is still his parent’s house.

The house is just shy of one hundred and fifty years old and it is falling down around our ears a little at a time.

I am tired of paying for repairs that keep us just ahead of disaster. For example, most recently, the front porch we had fixed.

I want central air conditioning. I want a patio or a deck, maybe even a screened in porch. I want to be all on one floor. Him climbing the stairs scares me to death all the time.

I don’t want to go down another flight of stairs into a dank cellar to do my laundry any more.

I would kill to have more than a 40″ by 12″ work space in my kitchen. Get out your tape measure and see exactly how much space that is.

Does he give one shit about any of that? Nope. As long as he has his lounge chair and his big TV cranked to top volume he doesn’t give a damn.

I am one lottery win away from outta here. Unfortunately, that is my only out.

Writer TToday’s shirt.

Oh, to sleep, perchance to sleep…

I don’t think I’ve had a restful sleep since The Curmudgeon’s first hospitalization back in October.

Now I find that I am so tired all the time that I fall asleep while seated at my desk, on the couch watching TV, anywhere I am motionless for more than a few minutes…

And still I don’t get enough rest.

Therefore, I am cranky, mean-spirited, and resentful. Not a pleasant person.

wheres my coffee

Dinner, dinner, what’s for dinner?

A less inventive dinner but a true favorite of The Curmudgeon’s is my Philly cheese steak dinner. We had it last night. He turned into Mr. Smiley.

So far, the last few days, we’ve had meatloaf, sesame chicken and rice, and cheese steaks.

Time to play dinner roulette or something to figure out tonight’s dinner. Yes, I begin planning our next dinner sometime after midnight almost every night.

Personally, I’d go out to dinner often these days but that costs money.


Not a fan of hazelnut coffees

As I sit here going through our flavored coffee K-cup order that arrived a few hours ago. I find myself pulling 8 hazelnut flavored cups to give to G. She loves it. We don’t care for them. Why is it that every flavored coffee mix out there insists on including a passel of hazelnut cups?

Yes, I often order both flavor variety boxes and boxes of a variety of dark roast coffees. It is both an addiction and a small pleasure for The Curmudgeon and me.

We don’t own a Keurig, they are notorious for failing and the company doesn’t stand by their product.

We do have an iCoffee Opus that I LOVE.


A day out with a good friend makes a difference

In fact, it makes all the difference in the world to my temperament.

Being locked in the same house with a drama queen man who has MS will make you crazy, cranky, and ready for a rubber room.

G and I went out to lunch and then we did my grocery shopping. We laughed, joked, talked, and gave my mind some much-needed fresh air.

I now feel less inclined to end him.

I am more able to ignore the drama queen.

Today’s T-shirt.

Writer reality

You know you’re tired when…

You curl up on the couch with the dog after dinner “for a few minutes” and wake up hours later….

You don’t feel as though you slept for hours.

You can fall back on the couch and sleep for another eight hours, no problem.

You long for your bed that you haven’t slept in for five months.


One day falters into the next and the next…

And the…you get the idea. It feels like Groundhog Day, the movie.

Each day is the same as the last.

Nothing changes.

The Curmudgeon perfected his drama queen routine.

I, on the other hand, am losing my mind.

My grip on my sanity is slipping away.

find your center