Some days you’re the windshield
and some days you’re the bug.
I’m doing OK today. Which is to say that not much has changed, but I’m coping a bit better. It helps having the Socialist around. Fridays he has no classes, and even if we aren’t in the same room it’s just plain comforting not to be the only non-cat in the apartment.
It looks like it will be raining all weekend. The garden looks great, but some of the morning glory vines are in open rebellion and I need to get out there and institute a retraining program soon before their first wave of attack kills off my Cosmos and snapdragons. I guess, with no sun to reach for, they’re just killer vines out looking for something to strangle instead.
Kitten persists in sleeping on my lap, and O’Beast had a nice long nap squashed into the side of my leg while I sat on the sofa this morning. Cattitude pretty much ignores my continues presense at home, save when she wants a servant to fill her food bowl. I guess you’d call that “conditional love”.
The incision continues to be bothersome, and I get back spasms virtually every time I sit down now, regardless of how I hold my back. I’ve been trying to get up and down more frequently, thinking that might help, but I’m not convinced yet.
This Sunday will be the four weeks since I got the Call. It’s hard to believe time has flown by so quickly, when each day drags so slowly.