My magnolia tree didn’t put on its finery this spring. We’ve barely a dozen flowers on the tree. Instead of loads of blossoms the tree has started with leaves. So very saddening.
At least I have the pictures from previous years.
It’s painful to watch The Curmudgeon allow himself to circle the drain. His doctors have recommended exercise, physical therapy, and even swimming.
He refuses saying they only make him hurt more.
Fine. If you’re determined to do a slow death spiral, go ahead, but I refuse to be a part of it.
I will no longer participate in your idiocy.
I refuse to be egged into daily battles.
In the meantime, I intend to work on my health and well-being.
Got my ears lowered yesterday. Yep, hair is short. Now I can start wearing all my wonderful ear cuffs again.
So glad I threw a roast in the crock pot so I didn’t have to worry about preparing dinner after my 4:30 appointment.
I’ve been watching the BBC’s Dr. Who marathon. I’m having a great time. I missed a few and now I am caught up.
Standing at the sink washing dishes and one idea after another runs through my head.
Sit down to write my blog post and each idea has fled like a mouse from a cat.
Oh, it’s going to be one of those days.
We had a nasty, rude neighbor, who tormented us, made it a misery to sit outside, we quit sitting on my front porch. It’s been a few years since we got to enjoy it.
The entire neighborhood celebrated.
This summer …we take back the porch.
I often wish I could roll back the years and make a few changes.
I would have made sure all the crap I wanted done in this house was done before MS took its toll on The Curmudgeon. All those promises he made were worth nothing after he retired on disability.
Now I have to find someone who is willing to be a handyperson for us. There’s so much I cannot do and is way beyond what he can do these days.
Problem is, we can’t find a soul to do it.
If only I could find someone to clean the attic that the roofer wrecked and made a total mess of and redo all the insulation there that is falling down from his carelessness. That would be a start.
After which maybe I could begin to get things out of places they shouldn’t be stored and put them in the attic out of the way.
That would mean I’d have room to actually clean and put things away in all the other rooms.
Then there’s all that crap in the basement I need to have cleaned out so we can finally get the guys in to put that new oil tank in before the old one springs a major leak.
The interior painting we need done in every freaking room.
Hardscaping the yard too so the dogs track in less mud and can keep their claws trimmed. Raised beds are easier to weed and plant.
As you can tell it’s a mountain of things to do and only me to do it. That’s why it isn’t getting done. I’m jumping through hoops for The Curmudgeon’s care, running errands, and doing all the other stuff I do. I am far too overwhelmed with keeping up with the cooking and every day housework to do more.
My printer died. I ordered a new one and it arrived today.
Now I can finally catch up on all the things I need to print out. Like a medication list to take to the doctor I’m meeting with at the end of the month to see if she’s who I want to be my new primary doctor.
It’s a bit scary to be changing doctors after over 30 years with the same one. That’s why I decided to do a basic ‘interview’ appointment before I make a decision. Who knows, I might be seeing several doctors before I find the right one. Although I did a lot of research just to find this one.
I think after my present doctor’s illness and seizures he’s been more interested in The Curmudgeon’s health. Probably because his son also has MS but refuses to take any medications for it. He’s always curious about the medication The Curmudgeon takes.
However, I don’t think it’s good for my health when a few minutes into my appointment he begins to ask me about The Curmudgeon and ignores any questions I have about my health or derails my train of thought so I forget to ask questions. Yep, time for new doctor.
I was reading a post in a dog related FB group last night and was so sad that someone had a dog who has had severe neurological problems since he/she was only months old.
They’ve controlled seizures with medication but he/she has other symptoms they cannot control. Severe ones. Enough to make me think the dog’s quality of life is quite poor.
Yes, I know they love her. But seriously, love also means knowing when our beloved companions are suffering and you as a responsible owner can stop the suffering. You don’t keep the poor pet alive because you cannot bear to be without them.
Yes, it hurts to let them go. It hurts a lot. It is devastating. Please, when they are suffering, let them go.
When Gavin, aged 15, reaches that point in his life where the quality of his life is at its low point, we will let him go as we have other sweet companions we loved with all our hearts. For now the silly boy still bounces through life.
Warmer weather, melting snow, and plenty of mud to track into the kitchen. The dogs are in their glory.
Too much to do this week to worry about things like mopping the kitchen floor, grocery shopping, taking G for her PT at 10 a.m., Lucy to the vet for a check up and shot Thursday evening, and hoping to squeeze in getting some laundry done somewhere in there.
I already started the week with getting my glasses fixed, picking up medication for Gavin, and a pharmacy run for The Curmudgeon.
Twisted my knee tripping over Gavin which put off everything I wanted to get done yesterday. Fun. Not.