Apr. 10th, 2019 11:09 am
Dead inside
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muckefuckI was going to start this post with "today sucks" but I've decided to go optimistic and say "today could have started better". Still no communication from Pasillero. (How are you supposed to blank someone when they won't contact you first?) Our fears about the smoketree have been confirmed: it's mostly dead and will have to come out. I kind of knew that and thought I was okay with it, but as I was leaving the house I took a good look at it and remembered how much Monshu enjoyed sitting out on the back porch and watching the morning light shine through the leaves.
Facebook's been popping up with photos from his post-surgical convalescence of three years ago and seeing his happy face from when we thought everything was going to be alright soon is more painful than seeing pictures of him dead. It occurred to me that the length of his decline means there's no time of year free of associations. January, I guess, but that's now overlaid with memories of my now-annual post-holiday depression.
All of this would be more bearable if the weather were as lovely as it was yesterday, but of course the 18°C and sunshine had to be replaced with 4°C and blustery cold. Incredibly, another "bomb cyclone" has taken place over the Upper Midwest and is driving down barometric pressure along with temperatures. We're supposed to get off relatively easily with thunderstorms and gale-force winds; not too far away, there will be snowstorms.
On the homefront, I'm taking a perverse delight in being a total slob. Last Friday, I made French toast for breakfast and just left the dish with the remaining egg and some crusts of bread. I've added some water since then to keep it all from drying out and caking on and every time I walk into the kitchen, I glance and it and think about how much this would disgust the Old Man and how it would never have been allowed to happen if he were still alive.
Facebook's been popping up with photos from his post-surgical convalescence of three years ago and seeing his happy face from when we thought everything was going to be alright soon is more painful than seeing pictures of him dead. It occurred to me that the length of his decline means there's no time of year free of associations. January, I guess, but that's now overlaid with memories of my now-annual post-holiday depression.
All of this would be more bearable if the weather were as lovely as it was yesterday, but of course the 18°C and sunshine had to be replaced with 4°C and blustery cold. Incredibly, another "bomb cyclone" has taken place over the Upper Midwest and is driving down barometric pressure along with temperatures. We're supposed to get off relatively easily with thunderstorms and gale-force winds; not too far away, there will be snowstorms.
On the homefront, I'm taking a perverse delight in being a total slob. Last Friday, I made French toast for breakfast and just left the dish with the remaining egg and some crusts of bread. I've added some water since then to keep it all from drying out and caking on and every time I walk into the kitchen, I glance and it and think about how much this would disgust the Old Man and how it would never have been allowed to happen if he were still alive.