The nice weather has murdered my blog. I have been so absorbed by my garden, and neeeeeding sunshine and daylight, that I have neglected my online activities somewhat.
Maybe it’s a good thing. I sometimes think that I am going to slowly morph with my computer if I don’t get off it. I love my computer. However, I am after a bigger hard drive, as well as various other bits and pieces. If I sit here long enough, I end up looking around websites for ‘stuff’ to improve my PC, the closet geek in me becoming ever more apparent.
I have been out and about a bit, but not too far, as Ginger is still working nightshit (sic). Wankbastard Inc officially ceases production on the 13th of June, but some people are going to be asked to stay a bit longer to clean the machinery so it is ready for selling. I don’t know whether Ginger will be asked, however there are some quite specialist calibration thingies in his department, and there is only Ginger left there who knows all about them. We live and hope.
Right. Back to the garden. I have some turf that needs digging up, and I think my muscles have gone AWOL after my attempts yesterday. We have a square piece of lawn at the front of the house, and I want to make a border between us and our neighbours. Partly because it’ll look better, and partly because our postie is a lazy bastard and walks over the lawn to get to next door. I want to make him walk around the path, like he’s supposed to, dammit.
It is slow, laborious work digging up sod. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m convinced there’s no soil underneath, just builder’s rubble. I could build a small cottage out of the stones I have pulled up. Ugh. I’ll do it, though. With guarana seed as my witness, I’ll dig that fucker up…
I called the psychology department, M has no more appointments, and is on holiday next week. She is kindly checking to see if she has anything sooner than my next scheduled appointment, which is on 17th June.
God, why do I feel so stupid about this? My memory is shot to shit. Maybe I should send myself a text message on my phone to remind me.
I apologise if you have read this tale elsewhere, but maybe, just maybe, someone will see my site listed at that blog list site (that I forgot the name of)
Wednesday night, I did my usual routine. Spent time on the web then went downstairs to get Minnie, close the drapes, and feed the fish.
I’ve noticed that Bruno HT has a penchant for lying by the patio doors, looking out into the garden. I have wondered what he is looking at, but assumed it was Tinkerbell (local cat) or Ben (‘nother local cat) and thought no more of it.
Wendesday night, I went to the windows, said “whatcha looking at, Bru?” and peered out into the semi-darkness…
…in time to see a fucking huge rat run across the garden. Good Fucking Gosh. I never realised they were so BIG!!! I knew they were bigger than mice (duh!) and I’ve seen pet rats and shit, but this one was massive. I’m trying to think of something in similar size, and all I can think of is a football. One of your ‘merican footballs, that is.
I can’t cuss enough. For one thing, my garden is violated (in the same kind of way you wouldn’t eat from a spoon that had been dropped in shit, even if it had been washed and lysol-ed etc). Also, I don’t know how it got in. The garden is fenced off all the way around, so unless it can climb… *shudders*
The one thing I am thinking through all of this is the cats knew all along. They must think I’m just a stupid human who clicks at the last moment. Ginger dragged me out this morning for some milk and bits at the shop, and I always say hello to the cats in peoples windows. Thermal looked at me as if to say “I knew all along…” So did Inkblot. (I’m making these two names up, they suit the cats, although Thermal is another story)
Today, I called Environmental Services, wanting advice etc.
I called Environmental Services at our local government office. I asked for advice re rat prevention. She took my name and address, and I thought “hmm, leaflet?” Then she said, “the Pest Control Officer will call you, and come out and get rid of the rats”
I said, “I just want advice really…”
She said, “Yes, the PCO can advise you as well”
So, now I have a complete fucking stranger coming out to my house. I think I’d rather have the rat…
See, I’m afraid of men. I’m afraid of most things, actually, but the idea of a strange man coming into my house – possibly when Ginger is not there – scares me to death. I also DO NOT want them to put poison down. I tried to explain this to the lady on the phone, saying there were lots of cats in the neighbourhood. She told me that if the PCO used poison, he’d put it out of reach of cats. I’m thinking this woman has not had much contact with cats…
I’ll wait and talk to the PCO when he calls. Except answering the telephone is another phobia I have. Bugger.
Yesterday, I did something that I thought I would never do.
I walked calmly up to a man in the pet store (we were stocking up on litter and stuff) and I said, “D’you mind if I pet your dog?”
Why is this so monumental, I hear you ask. Well, when I was about 16, I was set on by a rottweiler. I wasn’t bitten, but I was scared out of my wits. Ever since, I have been very wary, even afraid of big dogs. I have been trying to overcome this fear, partly because I don’t need another thing to be afraid of, and partly because my friend has a German Shepard, and well, it’s a pain in the arse working around a dog.
Cassie, the German Shepard, is actually a sweetie. She is really well trained, and has a ‘soft as muck’ temprament. I now feel completely comfortable around her.
So, the dog in the pet store. His name is Max, and he is a FIFTEEN STONE Mastiff. I have never in my life seen a bigger dog. So of course, I had to seize the opportunity to say hello. I got down on my haunches (Max was lying down) and let him sniff my hand. Then, I stroked his head and lovely soft ears. I am so proud of myself!
Max’s owner told me that he eats ten kilos of food a week. He is also taller than their 7yr old child…
Petting Max was one of those things that I just had to do. I’m glad I did.
With Ginger working nightshit (sic) I am totally bored. I can think of a million things to do, (as always) but I have gotten to the point where I’m too bored to do them. How the hell is that possible???
Yesterday, I received a HUGE parcel in the post from Chicago. What happened is this. In January, Ginger and I decided that we could afford to go to meet some friends in Chicago. (We are in England in case anyone is wondering). Then, Ginger was made redundant from work. He is still there – only just – but he has not been able to take any time off for holidays, as the Receivers have told staff that if they do, they will loose ALL their severence money. Bastards.
Anyway, it turns out that my conniving friends wanted to make this a memorable visit, and had some towels embroidered for us. Two have our internet names on, Ginger for him (spelled Gingah because that’s how I apparently say it) and Kitten for me. Then, two with Happy Anniversary on, because it is our wedding anniversary this month, and two with the name of our little online gang. Dab your eyes with kleenex, because that’s not all. Tinka, who is Martha Stewart reincarnated (Sorry, Tink!) rolled the towels and wrapped them, and with the help of some silk flowers and ribbon, turned these beautiful flowers into a ‘cake’ with three tiers, and complete with candles. It is totally beautiful, and at some point today, I will edit this post to include a photo.
The plan now is to go to Chicago (or somewhere central for everyone) next spring. If I have to swim, I will get there.
So, how does this work with agoraphobia? Honestly, I don’t know! Ginger is my safe person, and I have been able to go most places with him. A couple of years ago, we went to see Robbie Williams in concert, in amongst a crowd of 70,000 people, and I was shitting myself, but fine. I think it was the whole excitement overriding the fear. Plus, we were very near to the front of the crowd. I think if I’d seen all those people in front of me, I’d have panicked. I don’t know about getting on a plane and travelling 3500 miles, though. I suppose I’d need to get some strong meds just in case!
Strange, isn’t it? I am planning (or have been planning) a mega trip like that, yet I can’t walk to the end of my drive alone without having a panic attack…
Over the past few weeks, my head has been a mish-mash of emotions. My body – well, I’ve had flu, which developed into a chest infection, then developed into pleurisy. So, I haven’t been at my best.
As I sit here and wonder what to write, I think of the times I have attempted a blog entry, then thought, “naw, what a load of crap” – right before I hit ‘delete’. So, I have decided to bear it all. If I don’t like the ‘me’ that comes out on screen, I have the power to change myself. I need to write. I need that release of emotions that may be just too strong for my long-suffering husband to bear. I also want to set myself goals, and stick to them. I think I will be better able to do that if I think someone out there is reading.
How do I prioritise my goals? There are so many things I want to achieve. So many things I want to do on the web, in my house, and in my garden. So much stuff going around in my head. This is why a weblog would work for me (assuming I stick to it) because I am the kind of person who always has a million thoughts racing through my head at a hundred miles an hour. I have the attention span of a toddler, because there is always something else to think about. It’s not Einstein kind of stuff, but there’s a lot of it.
For the next two weeks, I am going to go mad. Ginger, my husband, is working nightshift, and is working every. night. for the next two weeks.
This is the scenario. The company Ginger works for has gone bust, and is due to close. Ginger was due to be made redundant on 2nd May, but they asked him (that morning) to stay on and work for a couple more weeks. The pay will be excellent, but I worry about him and whether he is doing too much. He is shattered. He has had the same flu as me (sans chest problems) and the whole redundancy thing, plus caring for me, his agoraphobic, panicky wife, has taken its toll.
Ginger has soaked up my emotion like a huge sponge, and thinks he has to carry it. I know he can’t help but worry – he is, after all, my soulmate and partner of 15 years – but I want him to step back and take a deep breath. Focus. Let me share some of the burden.
I am antsy today. I can’t keep still, I want to keep moving – but I can’t concentrate on anything for very long. It is so irritating. This must be my third attempt at writing something, and I am still looking round, seeing other things to do, rather like a child with ADHD
I started with a cold last night. It isn’t terrible, I’ve had worse, but I could really do without another thing dragging me down. Stephen has had this cold for about a week, and subsequently, things that he has promised to do around the house have been left. I’d do them myself, but it’s things I can’t do. I feel bogged down right now, and I could do with some ‘spring cleaning’.
The more I look around, the more I can see things to do. Maybe I should write a list, because another annoying thing is that I see a thing to do, then later, when I get around to doing it, I’ve forgotten what it was. Then I get really peeved with myself. Argh!!!
I’ll write some more later, because I have a sudden overwhelming urge to do something else. I don’t know what yet, but it isn’t this…
I have decided to keep a blog about my agora and panic. I hope it will help others to see what it is like living from day to day with this disorder, and hopefully may help people with similar problems.
I am aiming to put some links up, but I am new to this, so please bear with me!