Day off.

I didn’t sleep again last night. It has become impossible to lie down and get comfortable. As much as I hated to, I called in sick this morning and took the day off. I wouldn’t have been safe behind the wheel, much less working around the animals at my job. Since I’d already arranged to have Monday off for my paracentesis, this gives me a four day weekend. I hate to have to admit this, but I need it.

I’m hoping the current lack of stamina is simply because of all the extra fluid I’m carrying at the moment. I needed to go grocery shopping, but started to flag before I’d covered half the grocery store. I’m hoping this is not a taste of what I have to look forward to as my liver continues to crap out on me. I do not like being so dependent on others.

All is not morose news, though. In fact, I’m going to be meeting an out-of-state friend this Friday who will be spending the weekend. I’m so pleased by this that words elude me. This is a net friend that I’ve known virutally for a while now, but it will be my first time actually meeting her face-to-face. I just wish I were in better shape – I’d drag her all over the city to the high points and hot spots. She’s going to have to make do with a more sedate weekend, but I’ll come up with a few things to keep it interesting.

The O’Beast sticks close to my side these days. In fact, he’s at the window about six inches from my shoulder as I type this. The Kitten has discovered how to navigate the new cat-tree (the first of the cats to figure it out) and has claimed the crow’s nest at the ceiling for her own. There is something endearing about the way she occasionally peaks over the sides of the basket to peer sleepily down on the terristrial denizens to make sure she isn’t missing something interesting. Cattitude merely guards the base of the cat tree. She won’t climb it, but she still claims it as hers.

The Socialist has been wonderful through all of this. I think he’s actually suffering worse than I am at the moment. It’s been my experience that illness is harder on the witnesses than the participants, and The Socialist’s attentiveness and worriment certainly supports my theory. I tell him it’s going to be OK, but he’s scared to death of losing me. Fortunately, we’re nowhere near the stage of my disease where we need to be concerned about that yet. Besides, I’m too ornery to give up easy.

Now if I can just get some sleep tonight before I start hallucinating ….