For the most part, the only thing people want running commentaries on are sporting events.  My life is NOT worth a running commentary.  (I do wish I had a soundtrack, but that’s another story.)

But once in a while, I figure you might give a crap what I DO with my day.  So, my gift to you:

I worked last night, and woke up to a shitty morning.  And when I say “shitty” I actually mean “complete with lots of feces.” 

Yeah.

The woman I care for gets all drugged up on phenobarbital at night and I guess it just didn’t work out of her system by morning.  That’s what I tell myself, at least, so I don’t strangle her.  But, really, it’s plausible – phenobarb has a hella long duration.

Anywho, she apparently got up this morning and hung a right a BIT too early and ended up in her (carpeted) closet.  Where she shit, diarrhea, ALL over the floor.  Oh, and she pissed too.  Then she walked all over the carpet and made shit-prints.

(If anyone wants to see pictures, let me know.  Yes, I was SO horrified, I took pictures on my iPhone.  And I made my mother and brother look at them.  When she gets home from Mexico, I’m sitting down with her and her boyfriend to talk about new employment opportunities.  She is getting to the point where she needs a manager, and I’m the best one to do it.)

Anyway, I donned gloves, pulled back my hair, spent a few minutes trying to muster patience and inner peace it turns out I don’t have, and then got the woman scrubbed in the bathtub, dressed, and plopped in front of the TV so I could clean and clean and clean.

The pregnant girl I work with relieved me and was SO disgusted by the whole situation, she had a cigarette.  *sigh*

I left work and headed to my company’s office to recertify in CPR.  The woman who was doing the recert had to combine us with new employees who were training so we had to spend nine million hours over EVERY part of the CPR crap before we partnered up to pretend to choke so we could smack each other on the back and do abdominal thrusts, and then we made out with dummies. 

Then I went home.  And had to drag my brother around to get photocopies of our licenses, money orders, birth certificates, passport photos, applications, and our old passports from when we were bitty (I’d gone to France, England and Belgium before I was even a teenager, and then haven’t gone anywhere except Canada since.  Lame.)  Then we took some oath about not lying to the U.S. Department of State on our applications, and the town clerk processed ‘em and said we’d get our passports in the mail in two weeks.

Then I came home and caressed my laptop box.  (Hee, that sounds dirty to me.  I’m an idiot.)  Oh, yes, that’s right, it CAME.  My new laptop is HERE!  I have been too busy to even unpack it, but I DID fondle the box for a minute.

I had a long talk with my brother about our dog, and what we’re going to do with her while we’re in Mexico (figured out a friend who is a PERFECT solution.  Fittingly, his middle name is Foster.  So Foster he shall be called here!).  Mostly we talked about how we’ll know it’s time to put her down.  I won’t talk endlessly about it again here, but…  It comes down to this – she’s lost quality of life, NO doubt.  She’s senile, she’s deaf (she’s been deaf for years, though), she’ has accidents in the house consistently, and her hips are weak.  She doesn’t really fully recognize us, she  has to eat her food mushed up with water, etc.  The question is – has she lost anything that SHE truly misses, or that makes her miserable?  I don’t know.  I wonder a lot.  Does she miss being more connected to us, or is she too senile to care?  She never acts embarrassed or shamed (like she did when she was young) when she has accidents in the house, so does she suffer at all from that?  When she went deaf, did she think we stopped talking to her?

I don’t know.  I just don’t know.  She eats, she sleeps by the fire, she chows treats, she gets her head and neck scratched whenever she wants, she gets helped up and down stairs, she gets company lying on the floor (my brother and I have been get-on-the-floor-with-the-doggie types forever).  Does SHE feel she has lost anything that makes life worth living?

I cried all afternoon off and on just thinking about the day coming when she has to be put down…

GAH. 

Anyway…

Then I went to my mom’s and took notes on all the stuff she wants me to do while she’s in Mexico and I’m housesitting.  I said goodbye to her, too.  I’m going to miss her a LOT, but I switched her phone plan so she’s got coverage in Mexico, so at least we can talk.

Then I went to the grocery store and bought some delicious looking organic produce.  Pears, mangoes, apples, celery, two kinds of sprouts, avocados, celery, carrots, and baby spinach. Mmmmmmm…

Annnnnd, I think that’s it, because I unpacked groceries and now I’m here, typing and waiting for the new Office to start.

Fascinating, no?

I’m still waiting on Antonio to make a decision about coming to see me.  He’s basically got to decide if it’s worth getting fired to take the time off without it being approved.  I mean, it’s not worth it.  It’s obviously not.  It’s just the nature of his job that when they cut back the labor force in the off-season, the guys who stay are expected to STAY so they can meet deadlines.  I just WANT him to come here… But if he can’t now, he can’t.  I’ll wait for my mother to go away again for a week or so (it happens very frequently) after we all get back from Mexico.  And he can come then.

I guess it all comes down to having a PLAN.  I feel better when I have plans to see him, even if they’re further off than I expected.

Lastly and randomly:

I saw an episode of Intervention yesterday, and spent the first ten minutes going, “I feel like I KNOW that girl.”  She looked slightly familiar, her situation felt familiar, and her daughter had a really unique name.  Then it clicked.  I texted my Itty to double check, since I thought Itty knew her too. Turns out?  We all used to hang at the same eating disorder chat room – a fairly small group of people. 

The thing I found most shocking?  She is EXACTLY the same person online as she is offline.   Her name, where she lives, the abuse she suffered, her anorexia, her cutting, her alcoholic use, her family – everything.

You mean people on the internet tell the WHOLE TRUTH?  Holy crapballs.