Where Am I Again?

I am....here. I'm not entirely thrilled with that fact, but there it is.

I think I'm just terminally dissatisfied with....well, pretty much everything. It's a really obnoxious way to live, but I haven't quite figured out how to shake it. Some days I think I'm getting better; some days I think I'm getting worse. I finally sat myself down a couple of weeks ago and gave myself a stern talking-to; this wallowing in despair, sleeping all day, accomplishing nothing, leaving critical tasks undone style of existence is not a viable option. I don't know why I have zero patience with myself, but it's probably because I suspect that underneath this barely-conscientious exterior, I am in reality a giant lazy slug who requires sternness to operate. Of course, this being the self-opinion with which I was raised, in large part, it makes sense.

In terms of real life as it exists outside of my navel, things are going (I guess) well. Squeaky and Tim, amazingly, still haven't lost their apartment or broken up; the baby is now just over 2 months old. I've only been out to their place once; watching Tim and his buddies drink just isn't my idea of fun. Debbie will be having her baby any day now, which is probably tops on my list of Things I Am Most Ambivalent About; on one hand I am totally thrilled with the chance to be Crazy Auntie Gladys and to get to teach her all the fun crafty things in life; on the other hand, I'm terrified that Debbie will go off into Mommyland and stop being herself. That would suck, since she's one of my very few local friends and is also one of the few people who can remember my childhood in detail. I don't think it will happen, but I've seen stranger things. And regardless of what happens parenting-wise, I hope she doesn't have the baby within the next couple of weeks; CR is going to be in town next weekend and I'd really rather not be pulled in FOUR directions at once. (I'm already going to be pulled in three--CR, work, and Mom--so the advent of TinyGirl would complicate that equation to no end.)

Speaking of things tiny....Marigold, the tiny little fluffball, is now an extremely non-tiny little fluffball. She's practically as big as Snick, and ten times as noisy. I was routinely amazed by how someone so tiny could make so much noise; I don't think I've ever had a cat be so talkative in my life. Apparently her brother, Tim and Squeaky's little Tiger, is still really small; not surprising, since he's been sickly all his life--he came to us with a cold and an eye infection, and he's been battling both of them off and on ever since. And of course, Squeaky, who was the one who couldn't bear the thought of losing Tiger to someone else, now has LittleMan--so Tiger is getting the short end of the stick attention-wise. (Squeaky says he's terribly jealous of the baby--whenever either she or Tim picks LittleMan up, Tiger gives them both the stink-eye. Stories like that are what makes me scoop Marigold up off the floor and give her a big kiss, despite her new tactic of placing a paw across my mouth the minute I pick her off the ground. It's cute, and it would be effective in making me not cuddle her silly if it wasn't always accompanied by her big motorboat of a purr.)

Work is okay, I guess. I mean, I'm glad to have the job to go to, and the paycheck, but like everyone else I'd really like to whack my boss upside the head and ask him why, exactly, he's so damn stupid. But--again, like everyone else--I put up with it. It's really sad, how dumb people get to be in charge. Even I--the one who for years has said that I was never cut out for a management job--could manage better than he does. It's just TRAGIC. But in terms of jobs, I've got no real complaints (unless you count "doing something you'd rather not be doing while NOT doing the things you were actually born to do" as grounds for a complaint--but without JP, that's going to be the rest of my life no matter what--so yeah, not so bad right now.)

And no, in case anyone was wondering, I haven't lost interest in this blog...any more than I've lost interest in anything else, which I will admit has lately been quite a lot--but since that includes literally EVERYTHING I enjoy, I don't think it's a reflection on the blog as much as it is a reflection of my interest in life. I'm trying to fix that, but man--it's rough. I have an appointment with my prescribing doc this week, and I'm going to bend his ear about this apathy thing--I'm not sure the meds are working, but I'm also not sure it's not mainly my fault as well. Either way, something has got to give; eventually either we'll find the right pill, or whatever-it-is that's making me this way will disappear, or some other miracle will happen--and I'll start enjoying things again. (And by "things" I mean "things that are not Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls", which are some of the most addictive little snacky bastards out there, and I highly advise everyone to avoid them, so there's more for me.)