Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

A good Sunday

I woke up shortly after a pre-dawn rain and sat outside in the ozone/hot pavement smell until my head cleared. Doc came out and sat with me. He didn't talk. He knows to give me time before he makes me start dealing with information. Usually he knows that. Sometimes when I wake up he hits me with this wall of words, usually ending in a question that leaves me looking at him like he has three heads.

I've been better about telling him where my head is at when he asks. I try to be completely honest with him and open to him. I'm amazed at how much it helps him help me. I finally told him the big secret: the voices spend most of their time trying to convince me that Doc is out to get me. I listen sometimes, I can't help it. Constant barrage of voices and "evidence" and memories. They have my whole brain at their disposal. Doc only has my words.

Mental Illness is a silent thing, ultimately. no matter how good your support network, you are still alone and silent. You can't bring them into your world. And to try is dangerous to them.

That sore on my nose is back again. I told Doc I'd had it a year, but he didn't believe me. So I found a picture from last summer. Showing that side of my nose, and there is the sore. Considerably smaller, but there. The next time I go to the physical doctor, I'll bring it up. I have to go get a check up this year.

We watched news today for the first time in a week. Grim, people, really grim. The police seem as out of control as the ammosexuals. But they're not killing each other off, just innocent people. Bombs all over the place. We broke something and now we're trying to fix it with food strapped to parachutes and bombs. God broke something and he's not doing a damn thing about it (Gaza). And America is so broken it doesn't even know it's the butt of the world joke. Grim. I'm back to watching NCIS.

I got the money to get my tooth extracted this week. Though that might change once we find out how much my seroquel is going to be. And Simon is still sick. He's learning to live with it, what choice does he have? If I could just get a hold of $600, three of my problems would be solved. Time to start gathering coins.

Oh wow, that xanax calmed me right down. I was outside and started having a panic attack after I woke up from my nap. I have been taking the xanax as needed instead of regularly. I'm taking less of it and benefiting myself more.

Awwwe . . . *weep*. Doc prepped the coffee for me, so all I had to do was turn it on when i ran out. That was so lovely of him. I can't even tell you, it's little things like that . . . they show me he loves me.

Tomorrow is his birthday and I told him I would cook anything for him that he wants. True, he prefers his way of cooking better than mine, but he was gracious about it. Doc doesn't celebrate birthdays. He's going shopping tomorrow, so there may be cake, if one is on sale. Just because we love cake, not because it's his birthday, of course. =}

What am I going to do about Simon? The more I read on the indiegogo site, the more I became convinced it wouldn't help me earn the money. I just don't have a big enough social network and not one of the 500 followers I have on twitter would retweet a request for help, selfish fucks.

It smells of hot coffee in here now. Ahhhhh.

Simon just walked by. His tongue is in a little more and he let me wipe away the drool. That has diminished, as well. He smells so badly of infection. My vet is going to kill me for letting this go . . .

Did I ever tell you that when Windows bitches at me about something, it says, in River Tam's voice, "No touching guns!" I love that. Sometimes I piss off Windows just to hear that. (see Firefly)

Coffee made, smokes stuffed. I'm ready for doc in an hour.

Billy Bob Brian Zeus, the stray cat, has stopped coming around. If Chewy is out there when BBBZ shows up, Chewy chases him out of the yard. I hope he's getting food at one of the other informal stray cat sanctuaries around here. So, Chewy only likes his own cats.

That's the thing, Doc keeps meeting neighbors (like those scum who don't care for Oso) that tell him of so and so or this lady or that family in the neighborhood that also feeds strays and ferals that wander over here from the apartment complex. If they can make it across the wide boulevard, they can easily find themselves home in this area. There was a man who trapped ferals for a trap and release deal he worked out with the vet next door to him. But he died. We got some stuff from his estate, but we couldn't get any info about the cats. The family spoke more Korean than Doc. He speaks almost every Asian languages: Korean, Japanese, Cantonese, Laotian, Viet Namese. There are more that I'm forgetting. He also has a decent understanding of Spanish. And his accents in every dialect are flawless. He's told that by expats all the time.

Most of our neighbors are really nice. They tolerate Chewy. Our chasing him through the neighborhood on bikes and foot, him evading us with every turn. Non-stop for the neighbors, all of which hang out out front all summer. This is a very close community. We're renters, so it has taken a couple of years for them to warm up to us. Chewy helped with that. No one complained when I left my xmas lights up out front and plugged in until June. I love it here. None of the isolation of the apartment complex. I know if I were in trouble, enough people have seen me walking Chewy that I know of five or six places I could go. Including next door on both sides.

I don't talk about my neighborhood. It is a joy to me. Almost every yard is manicured or creatively xerascaped. Lantana stretches across the sidewalk in some places. After 13 years in an apartment . . . it's wonderful to walk down the street in the middle of the night with my dog. It's nice walking my dog after dinner time when everyone is out and waving at everyone and telling Chewy to say hi, which they think is so cute or so strange. Either way, I'm good.

Oh wow, the Bee Gees are on PBS tonight! I know what I'm staying up to watch! and NCIS is on until 11. so i'm covered for the night. A rare sunday. a good sunday.

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