i'm not putting the xmas tree up this year. it's too much of a hassle for a holiday we don't even celebrate. i asked doc to get me some LED lights so i could put them up in the living room. but they're to stay. i figure if i don't have the tree up and stuff, i won't get as depressed about xmas being a fizzle.
i do get one present every year: no snow. living here is a gift. the heater is on again. we have it set to 68, so it doesn't go off very often. but it was a chilly day and now that the sun has gone down, it's a very chilly evening. i'm waiting for another warm patch to go up and see the lighted cactus garden. since i don't know where any of my socks are or my gloves, going out tonight is right out.
M is home. he spent the weekend away. he's still up, so i don't have to turn down the tv yet. i hate it when i have to be quiet. and it means that doc and i won't talk when he gets home, because whispering will be in effect and he always claims he can't hear me. he can hear everything i say under my breath, just not when i want to communicate with him. i guess it's not that bad. he's off tomorrow to take me to the shrink. he'll likely go over to the guys' house once we get home. and there's no talking on the bus trip for some reason i still don't understand. in fact he spends most of our time out trying to pretend he doesn't know me. he is great for my self esteem.
i need to pull myself out of this. i have to find something to live for besides the cats. there has to be more to my life than taking care of doc and the cats. when i was writing i had some purpose, an identity. i was a poet. i hated the label, but that's what i was. and a talented one at that. maybe it's the meds that have deadened me. maybe i've just mellowed with age, but that doesn't make sense because i'm still as conflicted as i was when i was writing.
okay, i'm dwelling and putting myself into an even worse head space. time to stop this mental masturbation and just take a nap or something.doc won't be home until 11 since he's stopping to get milk on the way home.
i can't believe the ironing is finally done. one less thing for him to lecture me about. i'm sure there's something i've done wrong today or not done that i was supposed to do, but i can't think what it was so fuck it. he can be happy with the ironing, or he can just piss off.
the icon i'm using is from the cactus garden the last time i went. god i love xmas lights.