Conversation in my head - The Drive Home

Today was a weird day.  Not really that pleasant, but not treacherous either.  By the time I was off from work, I pretty much had reached my limit of sane behavior and had started into the territory of insane behavior.

My computer went down a couple of days ago and IT finally came and brought me a new one late this afternoon, but in doing so, they upgraded all my programs.  Like, they moved my mother trucking cheese.  BIG TIME.  I was in the middle of a meltdown when Valerina came down.  She saw the crazy in my eyes, but was unafraid as she had seen the crazy before. She immediately intervened and started using the Mom voice on me.  The voice of reason.  The voice of reason doesn't always work and she knows this, which is why she simply sat down at my computer and started to handle things while I had my temper tantrum about my cheese being moved and this happening to me without so much as a warning or an application of lubricant.  I don't like change.  In addition to that, just before I left, Sister Scorpion decided to tell me that she wanted snacks and water for some meetings tomorrow.  I didn't even let her finish her request before I said, NO!  I hate getting water and snacks, but then, there isn't a lot I like to do right now anyway, so really, kind of a silly place to draw my line in the sand. At any rate, Valerina "handled" me and we walked out together.  We had our normal recap of why my life sucks and the stupid things people do and say and then headed for home separately. 

And so it was, I was alone in my truck with nothing but my thoughts.

As I sat there in traffic, I considered if I should get the snacks and water tonight or do it in the morning?  Do I stop and pick up my prescription at the pharmacy tonight or in the morning?  Do I stop and get my new replacement cell phone tonight or tomorrow night?  What am I wearing tomorrow?  I better just go home because the dogs likely have a peeker brewing and I need to get home and let them outside.  What are we having for dinner tonight?  What kind of snacks should I get?  Should I get up early and get the snacks on the way to work?  Should I get candy or cookies?  What about all the people trying to eat healthy?  Fuck them.  They can have water.  Should I stop at Target tonight?  Nah.  I could stop at Safeway, get the water and snacks, then swing into the pharmacy then go home.  What would I get at Safeway?  No, I'm not going to Safeway because the lines will be too long from all the people just getting off work and buying dinner.  I hate those people.  Creating all that chaos.  I wonder if Shark Bait is getting home at a reasonable hour?  If so, he can handle the dogs.  I should stop at the Sprint store and get my phone, then go into Haggens and get the water and snacks, then I can swing by the pharmacy on the way in tomorrow morning to avoid the evening rush from all the people getting meds after work.  It really pisses me off when the old people wait until the evening because they could get their meds anytime they want, but no, they wait until they are affecting MY LIFE.  And their insurance or medicare or whatever is always fucked up and they always have questions.

Maybe I'll stop at Cash & Carry on the way in to work tomorrow.  If I leave early, I can still get a good parking spot.  Should I unload up front and then go park after I unload, or just bring the cart out to the truck? I hate doing that, that cart is so noisy when it rolls on the pavement empty.  Should I just go in and check my email first and then go out and get the stuff later?  Would someone steal water out of the back of the truck? Maybe I should come in, put my stuff down, then go get the stuff and then check my email?  But what am I going to wear, because if I wear a dress, it makes it complicated to lug all this stuff around.  Maybe I should wear jeans.  No, that won't work.  I should probably just stop by Walmart in the morning and get it.  But which one? The Smokey Point one or the Marysville one?  No, I'll just leave early, drive in to the Everett Safeway, get it there, then go to work, park my truck and go get the cart. 

So, I could go to Sprint and get my new phone tonight.  No, it will take them too long and I have dogs with defficating needs.  I need to go home.  Maybe I'll just stop and get my meds tonight.  I think I can make it till tomorrow night.  I would have to get across all those lanes to make it into the pharmacy.  What if I can't get all the way over through all that traffic?  If I went to Safeway at Smokey Point first, then I could loop back and would be on the same side of the road as the pharmacy.  No, all those dinner people will be at Safeway.  I'm just going to go home.  But that leaves all my tasks for tomorrow.  I don't care.  Fuck all the tasks. I'll just go to Cash & Carry in the morning.  Or Safeway.  Cash & Carry is in a shady neighborhood.  I'll probably go there.  What should I wear tomorrow?

The song "Turn Down For What" comes on the radio.  I crank it.  It occurs to me that I have no idea what I'm turning down for.  I mean...what?  I don't know.  Why don't I have anything to turn down for?  I should turn down for something.  What does that even mean? Turning down...?  That reminds me, what was all that talk today about "rubbing it out," wondering what kind of "pie" someone likes and having "two in the pink, one in the stink" all about?  I'm not saying that conversation was had at work, if I was at work, at that place I go, or if it wasn't at work, but at some point in the last 24 hours, the aforementioned items were discussed.  I'm so lost.  I mean, I don't even know what to turn down for.  Turn down for what?

I think I'm severely depressed.  I think I'm like my Dad got to be.  Nothing in life made him happy and he was just sad. He was a brilliant man, charming, creative, talented, but he was so unhappy.  I loved him dearly, but he was so chronically depressed.  Have I turned into him?  Is that my destiny?  Is that who I have become?  This woman that is constantly so stressed about everything that she doesn't even know what to wear tomorrow or what to turn down for? What?  Is that my road coming up?  I think it is.  It's so hard to see at night.  I hate where I live.  I hope nothing new has died.  And why did someone put a chair marked as Bio-hazard in Mrs. SRD's cube. For the love of God, her husband just took a dead possum out from under my house and of all places someone decided to put a piss chair over by her desk. Is that okay?  No.  I'm outraged. 

Well, I'm home.  I'm going to leave my headlights on for a little while since they shine right into the neighbors house across the street.  Take that Mother Truckers.  Turn down your shades, that's what you can turn down for.

So, that's it, that's what happens in my head, all the time.  It never stops, even after I get home.  Tonight is a shining example. I came home to Lilly instantly pissing me off.  She is the broken legged dog with a cast wearing a cone of shame and she still managed to get to her bandage.  I'm going to have them amputate her leg.  I can't do this anymore.  On the upside, Shark Bait left a pound of hamburger on the counter to defrost. I guess I'll go in and make fucking miracles happen with that.

Till next time, I hope you all turn down for something, whatever that means.

A Few Words About Stinky

For those of you following my life story on Facebook, you know that the stench we've had under the house has been making me crazy, and frankly, possibly killing me slowly.  I can't prove that since I am still alive, but I believe the smell was killing my body and soul.  Luckily, one of my friends took mercy upon my rotting soul and sent her husband, Super Rodent Dude, to save me from my certain slow death from dead carcass inhalation.  Super Rodent Dude was able to locate the dead something and it wasn't a rat as we had originally suspected, it was an opossum. It had crawled up inside the insulation under the house and was marinating between the insulation and the kitchen floor.

I will forever remember Super Rodent Dude, gallantly standing at my front door in his super rodent fighting attire as he said, "it's not a rat...do you have large trash bags?"  I sat there in horror as my mind considered what it could be.  A cat?  A racoon? A person (the ol man)?  I asked what it was, he said, "a possum, a big one."  I sent Shark Bait out with bags and told him to give Super Rodent Dude a hand with that.  He started to give me a pout, but I gave him the look.  I asked for pictures, but I was denied.  I needed to be at peace with this rotting thing, but not enough to go outside and see it myself.  A picture would do.

Anyway, I finally got relief from the smell of death and I am eternally grateful to Super Rodent Dude and his wife, Mrs. SRD.  I don't think it's too dramatic to say, they saved my life.  I need to bake them cookies or something.  I'll pay it forward somehow.

Tonight, as I came home and opened the door I wasn't assaulted by the smell of rotting mystery rodent. It was refreshing.  But then, I considered our friend, the possum. I felt somewhat connected to him and his maggot infested body.  He was basically "soup inside of skin" when we officially met him.  What did we really know about him, aside from the fact that he did not age well, once dead? We knew nothing.  Sad.  I decided he needed a name.  Let's call him Stinky Malone.  He deserved that much. All he really wanted was a warm place to sleep, and then just like that, he died.  Did Stinky have a family?  It's highly likely he had kids, I mean, let's be honest, I've seen his kind before.  Surely, he had swooned many young impressionable females.  Why did the possum cross the road?  To get to Stinky and all that Stinky had to offer.  It's safe to say that likely many of his children have been killed on the road or by some other animal.  I do know that it's also likely that some of his offspring are having a 2AM romp on the rooftop of a garage somewhere making sweet possum love under the moonlight.  I've seen it, and sadly have been wakened by it. I think I blogged about the time Shark Bait was buck-naked hanging out the bedroom  window shooting his Daisy Red Ryder be-be gun at two possums on our roof that were going at it like big time porn...shit, maybe this two week possum stench was our come-uppins for doing that! Karma isn't a bitch, it's a dead possum! Sure possum fornication is gross to us, but to them, it's even better than muskrat love. I've never witnessed muskrats doing the deed, so I can't compare in all honestly, I'm merely speculating at this point.

Back to Stinky.  I think that if I knew anything about Stinky at all, he lived a full life.  I mostly know this because he was ten to twelve pounds.  We can't know the percentage of his body weight that was maggots vs actual muscle mass, but let's not judge. He's dead for crying out loud.  Do you want someone judging your BMI as you lay there dead?  I didn't think so.

Now, another thing, I don't want to borrow trouble, but I have to hope that Stinky doesn't haunt us.  Can animals haunt you?  I mean, we put him in a trash bag.  We DOUBLE-bagged him.   On a side note, I would have liked to have seen the trash dude's face today. Stinky didn't get his name for wearing perfume, if you know what I mean.  That just made me smile.  Does that make me a bad person?    Anyway, I really hope Stinky doesn't haunt us.  And, furthermore, I hope his family doesn't come looking for him.

I think maybe this weekend, in honor of Stinky, Shark Bait and I will have a little party for him or something. Like, Shark Bait, the wiener dogs and myself will just light a candle (scented of course) raise a glass, and salute his smelly life...and his smelly death. We might even eat some cheese and crackers and then run out across the driveway in front of cars a few times under the moon light.  If anyone wants to join me, let me know.  You don't even have to shower, you know, in honor of Stinky.

RIP, Stinky. I hope you enjoy your perfect burial at the county dump.  May you rot with many of the things that you once ate.  I hope the maggots are happy there, too.

A moment of silence, please...

Thank you.

The Smell of Death

Death.  I seem to be surrounded by a lot of it lately.  Whether it is a post on Facebook letting me know that some rock legend died or someone's loved one.  It seems a lot of people are experiencing loss.  While that tends to give me anxiety, wondering when it will strike me personally, it also should make me feel like my problems are insignificant in comparison.  Losing someone is hard.  And I don't want to downplay that, mock that or hurt anyone when I say this, but you know what else is hard?  Smelling death.

For those of you keeping up with all the drama surrounding my life over the past few months, and let's be honest, you can't avoid it, I'm kind of talking about it a lot, you know that there is something amiss at our new home.  We believe something is dead under the house.

When we originally looked at the house on the first of December, we knew it had been vacant for about six months.  We were told an "old man" lived here previously.  He then no longer lived here and the house was sold.  Did he move? Did he die?  We don't know. At any rate, someone else purchased the property for an investment and placed it with a property management company to handle the renting and upkeep.  Anyway, when we first looked at it, it was clean, in good repair and seemed good enough.  Upon moving in, again, decent, no issues. 

About a week or so after moving in, while settling in and unpacking everything, I noticed a smell under the bathroom sink in the master bath.  It smelled a little like urine. I was like, I wonder if someone had a litter box under here before...?  The smell continued to intensify.  I wiped it down with 409, then Febreezed it, multiple times, put air freshener under there, three at once, and even some coffee grounds.  It's bad under there, like, can't breathe, nothing helped.  No evidence of mice inside, totally dry, no leaks.  WTF?  I complained about it daily, you know, so Shark Bait could fully understand there was a problem, because without complaining, he was oblivious.  Ok, let's be honest, even with complaining, he was oblivious.

A couple weeks later, I started to notice a new smell.  Apparently, it was only a smell that I was able to detect, like spidey senses or something.  Shark Bait was unable to detect it.  Every day, I was like, damn, that stinks, but the more time I spent in the house, apparently I grew used to it and proceeded to live my life.  Fast forward to a week ago when we came home to a note on the door from the water company telling us we likely had a leak based on the meter readings.  Receiving this notification, apparently is what it took to unlock Shark Bait's spidey senses.  Suddenly he could smell this rotting smell, kind of like over-cooked broccoli. Like, you had boiled it to death and then put it in the sun.  It was bad.  Shark Bait started sniffing around like he was a hound dog.  We narrowed down the most intense smell to the cubbards that were in front of the wall where the water heater is housed.  We went outside and opened the water heater compartment expecting to see a leak and the root of the smell.  Instead, we saw a perfectly functioning water heater with pile of insulation sitting on top.  Apparently, a mouse or rat had made their own personal palace.  We know this was not there when we moved in because Shark Bait had opened it up to turn up the water heater.

Armed with this new knowledge, we knew we had a problem.  We further investigated one of the other openings to the crawl space and found a heavily leaking sewer line.  Well, that explains part of the problem.  The property management company sent out a plumber the very next day.  He fixed the leak and looked around a little bit to see if he could find the smell.  Now, truth be told, he didn't look hard and he certainly didn't feel it was in his jurisdiction to handle this.  I can't say as I blame him, but dang.  He said he had once crawled under a home and pulled an elbow joint out of some plumbing and a rat with maggots on it fell out on his chest.  This is not a visual I was prepared to handle.  I felt the chunks rising in my throat.

The next morning, Shark Bait and I heard something scampering under the house, or in the walls.  I am certain, based on the amount of noise, it is an R.O.U.S.  (Princess Bride reference people, come on!  ROUS stands for Rodents Of Unusual Size).  So, the live ROUS is clearly not the odor problem, but one of it's relatives might just be.  Shark Bait and I went and purchased traps and poison to kill current residents that same day.

So, here we are, the pipes are fixed, but the smell is so bad that as soon as you walk through the door, you get a one-two punch to the face.  I get sick to my stomach not long after arriving home and nothing sounds good.  Food production is down at the White house. You'd think this is a great weight loss plan, but it isn't.  I come home each night, light the candles and turn on my Scentsy warming lamps.  The longer I'm in here, the more used to it I get, I guess, but it lingers.  It's the first thing I smell when I open my eyes and become fully awake in the morning. It's so depressing.  I've come home in tears almost every night.  We've called the leasing company again and are waiting for them to come back out, but the maintenance dude is not optimistic.  He says, "Well, if it's in the wall, I don't know what we can do...but we'll send someone out to look."

Well, that is mother trucking fan-fucking-tastic.  I mean, no worries, we'll just continue to smell death and decay every mother trucking day until the next thing you know we are DEAD.  Just put us under the house with all the other fermenting rodents, we'll decompose at some point, right?  Who knows, maybe the "old man" that used to live here is under there?  My personal opinion is, if you are gonna do away with a body, you should take it to the woods, because, hello, carnivores and coverage.  I'm not saying I've thought about it, I'm just saying it's a safe bet. 

I mean, is it safe to smell death and rotting bodies?  We moved out of the cabin because it wasn't safe (among other reasons), but is this any safer?  Are we going to get an incurable respiratory disease?  Are we going to be asleep at night and maggots are going to appear and crawl inside of us and start eating our insides out?  I mean, I'll be all, "look at me losing weight!  Finally!" Oh, wait, my intestines are gone and my butt hole is the size of a dinner plate as maggots eat their way out.  But hey, skinny jeans! Victory!  And then I die.  I guess at least I'll die skinny.

My question is, if they can't find it, then what?  I mean, we just smell it until it shrivels up into a fossil?  What if it is the old man?  How long does it take a body to totally decompose.  Should we go buy worms to move it along?  What if the rodent is dead and stuck up in the insulation?  I mean, kind of preserved?  What if the poison we used killed a bunch of others? Because I'm pretty sure they are having a party under there. 

What if I start exhibiting rat like behavior?  Suddenly I'm scampering from the light and trying to find small places to take a shit that normal people don't (unless we are talking about some of my co-workers and their bathroom habits...shit, maybe that's why?!!!)  I start pooping little pellets all over and piss at will.  What if I start putting shavings in the bed in place of my fleece sheets?  What if I start going through everyone's trash on trash pick-up day and  shredding paper with my teeth?  What if my eyes get kind of pink and I start "ratting" people out at work all the time, "John did it, I saw him!"  Sweet Maryanne.  You guys don't know.  I need to Google long term affects of smelling death.  Hold on, going right now...

Holy Shit.  I'm not even joking!  http://southernnevadahealthdistrict.org/health-topics/hantavirus.php
We are as good as dead.

What are the symptoms?

People who are sick from HPS may at first think they have the flu. The difference is that with this virus the breathing problems become worse, the lungs fill with fluid which may cause the breathing to stop and the person to die. The fatality rate is approximately 50 percent.

Early symptoms include:

• Fatigue (got it)
• Fever (not yet)
• Muscle aches (especially in the thighs, hips, back and sometimes the shoulders) (totally got this)

About half of HPS patients also experience the following symptoms:

• Nausea (got it)
• Vomiting
• Diarrhea (totally the other day)
• Abdominal pain (totally this morning)
• Headache ( yes, every day!)
• Dizziness
• Chills (have been cold at home)

Late symptoms begin four to 10 days after initial phase of illness and include:

• Coughing
• Shortness of breath
• Tightness around chest (yes, at times)

Less common symptoms include:

• Earache
• Sore throat
• Runny nose (yes)
• Rash

How soon do symptoms appear?

The incubation period is not well known due to the small number of HPS cases. Based on limited information, it appears symptoms may develop between one and five weeks after exposure.

What is the treatment for Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome?

There is no specific treatment, cure or vaccine for HPS. Persons with severe breathing problems are often placed on oxygen and a ventilator. If a person has been around rodents and have symptoms of fever, deep muscle aches and severe shortness of breath they should see a doctor immediately.

I guess I'd better hope it is a human body:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Health_risks_from_dead_bodies

Look, I don't mean to get all dramatic, but it could happen. You know, when the whole thing with the cabin happened and we had to move and we were searching for the "why" behind the need to move, we thought it was so we'd be safer, because 2016 was going to be so much better.  But, now, now I know.  It's because we have been lead to the slaughter.  Death by rats. 

#Deathvalley 
#Deadgirlwalking
#rats!
#SnuffingRatDeath
#cantbuymeair
#gonnamissyouguys
#rememberthetitans
#fml
#rememberthegoodtimes 
#ihaterats
#someonecleanoutmybedsidetablebeforemomsees

This Too, Shall Pass.

It's really no secret that I am having a tough time emotionally lately. I know Shark Bait and I have been through some major upheaval in the past few months, but I just can't seem to shake this lost feeling.  And, each day I sign into Facebook or watch the news, I'm overwhelmed with who just died from cancer or some other horrible illness or other equally traumatic causes.  It saddens me so.  It scares me. It makes me feel like my world, which is already pretty fragile right now, is falling apart and that I could be next.  I think the Rug Doctor would say this is a rational response.  I think she would say that I won't always feel this way and that today might totally suck, but tomorrow might not.  I might also be dead tomorrow.

In reality, if my glass was half-full, there are a lot of people that didn't die recently.  There are a lot of people out enjoying life and living it. There are also a lot of new lives being created all the time. It's the circle of life, right?  You don't have to watch The Lion King to be familiar with the circle of life, but it helps if you are still unclear.  So, knowing that, why do I allow myself to get into this dark place?  Why do any of us? One might say this is a reminder of how precious life is and how we have to appreciate each day that is given to us, because we never know when it is our last.  I detest it when people say that to me, by the way.  It's insensitive. Those points may very well be true.  It may very well be a good way to look at life.  But it is also completely disregarding how I feel at this moment.  Your inspirational meme is not going to change how I'm feeling right now.  I may see the truth written plain as day in black in white in a beautifully framed picture of the sunlight cutting through the trees over a pond in the wilderness.  Fuck that picture.  Right now, at this moment, I'm telling you, I'm scared.  I'm worried. I'm lost. I'm not so sure I'm not going to get crushed in my building in a mega-quake that is over-due on February 6th.  I get you care. I get you want me to see things the optimistic way.  I get that part.  What you don't get is that I have a lot going on in this head and it cannot be programmed by inspirational memes.  I had a chip installed that prevents it from happening. Okay, that part is a lie, but it feels that way. My bullshit panic alarms go off and I evacuate.

Anyway, next you are going to tell me that worrying never solved anything and that worrying is a waste of energy.  I saw that in a meme, too.  I think it was written over top the picture of two elderly people walking hand in hand through a park on a tree-lined path in the fall and beautiful leaves were falling all around them. Ironically, the falling leaves indicating death and change, but we shouldn't focus on that, right?  The couple pictured had each other through good times and bad and their love saw them through all of it.  Guess what, it doesn't always work out that way.  That is a beautiful dream.  The reality is, your life will be taken when it's time.  And, when it's time, you don't get to decide.  You go.  You go when you are called home, wherever that eternal home is.  Everyone else is left behind to wonder why. Maybe it's Spanky that is wondering, maybe it is Shark Bait, or maybe...maybe it's me.

Anyway, there is another meme that says, "This too, shall pass."  It's probably printed over a rainbow peaking through the clouds.  You know, rainbows mean hope and shit like that.

So, where does that leave me?  I pretty much just want to cry all the time and think about horrible things all the time, like worst case scenario.  I guess I should be grateful for all the positive things, and I am, but it's really hard to focus on that.  I've been starting to consider maybe I need to be on drugs again. I know I've blogged about it before, but I still fight it because every time the doctor puts me on one, the side-effects really frustrate me, so I stop.  What I may be saying is, it's possible I should not go without chemical enhancements.

Let's talk about the side-effects.  Maybe they are the lesser of the two evils. Consider: Crying all the time or sleeping all the time?  Low energy with no hope or low energy and don't care that I don't have hope?  Wish I was in bed sleeping and crying or suddenly can't remember who I am or where I'm going.  Craving ice cream, potato chips and chocolate or craving flannel pjs and wondering how many legs a fly has?  Care deeply about everything or care about nothing, including getting healthy?  An occasional orgasm when Shark Bait is feeling frisky or never have one again, because even your girl parts just don't give a fuck anymore?  Can't control my temper or can't complete an intelligent sentence?

Seems like maybe being an asexual zombie just might make me more tolerable.  I have one friend that wants me to take the stuff she's taking.  Suddenly she is happy and blissful and doesn't seem to let things get her down no matter what.  And she was in a really dark place before starting them.  I mean, sure she was a zombie for a while and has lost her "O" face, but I guess she doesn't care about that anymore.  Nothing is going to bring her down. She smiles all the time and has a joy for life.  She's like a stepford friend.  Like she teeth smiles.  Like, I can see all her teeth she is smiling so big, for no apparent reason.  Freaks me out. I can't do that.  Can you imagine?  People aren't prepared for that.  I'm all walking around at work, no cares in the world.  The toilet in stall one gets plugged, don't care.  D.I.C.K. starts teasing me about something stupid, and I just smile and laugh.  The boss asks me to order pizza for the entire building and I say, "Sure, I LOVE pizza!"  If I decide to try her crazy pills and that starts to happen, and any of you notice it, I need an intervention. STAT.  I'm counting on all of you.

I decided to Google her medication and the side-effects.  I mean, my friend couldn't be happier, which I'm really happy about. Maybe it's right for me? 

 Downsides (Effexor)

• Can cause sexual side effects like low libido and an inability to orgasm or ejaculate. (great news, the drug will make me not care about that, who needs sex anyway, I mean, forget I'm in my sexual prime)
• Not the best option for people with high blood pressure. (Ok, I don't have high blood pressure, I'm good here)
• Overdosing on this medication could be fatal. (woops, my bad, I was so happy, I forgot I took it already and now I'm dead, but I don't care, because I'm medicated!)
• It's more likely to cause nausea and vomiting or make you feel sick if you miss a dose than other antidepressants. Also causes more sleepiness than others. (Great!  I'll be too sick to eat and I'll just sleep my life away...but I'll be in skinny pj's!)
• Like most antidepressants, it can cause a higher risk of suicidal thoughts and behavior for people younger than 24. (Well, that sounds counter productive)
• The first antidepressant you try doesn't always work or it can cause side effects you really don't like. You might need to try a few different medications until you find one that works for you. (No shit.)

So, yeah...I know these are all "normal" warnings, but I don't know...maybe I just need to consider the below meme and become at one with my stretchy pants, accept I'm fat, accept defeat about the musty smell under the bathroom sink we can't pinpoint (or maybe it's a dead animal) and the fact that every freaking weekend at 7:30pm there is a bonfire with really loud music at the neighbors house...and that a portion of my income goes directly to the vet clinic every Saturday from now until I'm dead...or my dogs are.  Just need to accept it.  Give in to the mudslide. Give in to stretch fabrics. Give in to fleece sheets.  Give in to putting my bosses number on speed dial and call out "unfit for duty."  No worries...this too, shall pass. 

 
Sounds like I at least have a plan.  As always, thanks for talking this out with me.

5 Things That Piss Me Off on a Wednesday

So, it's a given I have anger issues.  Things make me crazy. I'm not even going to take the time to write it all fluently and like it is a novella.  Fuck it, let's get to it.

1.) STOP BEING ENTITLED.  YOU are no more important than your co-worker.  Unless your co-worker never comes to work because they'd rather stay home playing some shoot em up video game and smoking pot.  If that is true, you might be more important.  Unless you can't do your job well anyway.  Like, you can't even come close to meeting the job requirement.  If that is the case, it's a dead heat for who sucks more.  Regardless, neither one of you are so special that you require special equipment or special treatment.  That's right, I said it.  You're not that special. I'm just not that into you.

2.) READ AN EMAIL.  If I send an email out stating that the sky is blue, the grass is green and that popcicles are cold, do not reply to that email asking if I am the person that said that sky was blue.  You are replying to the email that provided you the very information you seek.  So, we know you saw the email, because you are responding to it.  You clearly know the content because you have asked a question about the content.  I don't understand.  Your question asking if it is a fact about the fact I stated baffles me.  Stop baffling me.

3.) BE AMAZING.  Look, if you wanted a job really bad, and then you finally got that job, how about doing that job?  You know, you went on and on about how you wanted it.  You furthermore said you were qualified, so...why aren't you doing your job?  You still say you are amazing.  You still think you are amazing.  YOU ARE NOT Amazing.  Do we need an intervention?  Like, if I got 10 people together that say you suck, will you listen then?  Will you change your ways?  Will you attempt to give a flying fuck about your job?  Just curious.  Stop screwing up your opportunity that directly impacts others.  Stop. Then commence being amazing.  Please.

4.) YOU NEED HELP.  If you are going to meander on over to my desk and ask me a question, maybe do your research first.  Like, maybe check your emails to see if your question can be answered first.  Maybe check with one of your peers, but there is NO REASON to torture innocent people that have their heads clearly far above, and free and clear of, their asshole.  Try to be a problem solver.  And, no, it isn't really funny that you have no clue what's going on.  It isn't.

5.) MY NAME IS CASSONDRA.  I've said it before, I'll say it again, there is no "A" in the middle of my name.  I'm NOT CassAndra.  You just wrote me an email and addressed me as CassAndra, but my email clearly shows the correct spelling of my name.  I will purposely spell your name wrong every time.  I will not go down without a fight.  I will not stand by and be subjected to such injustice.  I will passive-aggressively torture you back.  Except maybe you don't care if I spell your name wrong but I DO.  If you just started working with me, it's forgivable.  If we've worked together for YEARS, don't play me like that.  I have feelings.  I have a lot of feelings.  I have a lot of voices.  I'm not medicated or under a doctor's supervision, unless you count the Rug Doctor and she, quite frankly, enjoys the voices to a certain extent, I believe.

So, in conclusion, stop being a dick, read your email, do your job, don't depend on others to do it for you and finally, say my name, bitch!  It's Cassondra!

Bathroom Boundaries

Today marks a full ten days we have lived in our newest home.  It doesn't really feel like home to me yet, but it is mostly unpacked and we are living here full time.  I'm assuming I probably felt like this at most other places I've lived when I moved in. It just takes time, I guess.  I think part of my problem is that I keep second-guessing whether or not this place was the right place and if the timing was right.  I don't know why I torture myself like this, but I do. It's that over analytical mind that I have yet to learn to control.  As Shark Bait said today, "It's done, so it doesn't really matter.  We did what we needed to do."  I just keep thinking about it.  I need to stop.  I need to embrace it is what it is and go from there.  I just wonder how long it will be before I stop thinking I hear the horses in the barn and how long it will be before I stop almost getting up to go out and feed them.  Clearly, ten days is not enough time for that to stop.

Something that happened today, however, may help me through this transition. Today, Shark Bait and I returned home after running errands.  We both had to go to the bathroom.  Now, normally, when we lived at the cabin, when this situation arose, we immediately went into negotiations.  You know, like, "Ok, so do you just have to pee or are you going to camp?"  "I'm going to be a while, you go first."  Or, if we were both in a jam of sorts, we'd say, "Ok, do you just have to camp or do you actually have a peeker? Like, how close to shitting your pants are you?"  "I can probably hold it, but hurry up."  This was our life.  There were no secrets.  When you essentially have one big room and then a bathroom contained in it's own room in the corner, you really don't have a lot of mystery about what's going on. At our prior home, and the one before that, and the one before that, we also just had one bathroom. We were fortunate for a long time that we had different get ready for work schedules, so we could kind of avoid some overlap. 

At any rate, today was different.  Today we were able to go to different ends of the house in our own space.  Our own bathrooms.  I mean, I didn't know how long Shark Bait was going to be, I didn't ask. I didn't need to know.  It was amazing.  I couldn't hear him doing anything.  He couldn't hear me. I didn't rush.  I may have lingered an extra 30 seconds and I took my time washing my hands and assessing what was going on with my hair in the mirror.  I mean, my pants were zipped and buttoned and I didn't look disshelved like I was recently a victim of a crime in a hurry leaving the scene when I walked out of the bathroom.  Now, this is a work in progress situation, because I did leave the door open.  I mean, when you don't have any boundaries, why shut the door?  In a pee situation, there isn't really any need to shut the door.  If your taking the Browns to the Superbowl, yeah, shut the door.

This brings up a valid question.  Because all boundaries are down, can boundaries be re-established?  Should they be?  I don't know.  Out of habit, we are still sharing the bathroom in the morning.  Like, I'm in the shower and there is Shark Bait, sitting on the toilet.  Is that going to stop?  Is the habit so ingrained that it cannot be unlearned?  Is there any reason to unlearn it?  I mean, we are okay with it.  He poops.  I poop.  We know each other poops. I mean, we don't rejoice in the experience and purposely engage in the process if not required, but you know, we are used to it. 

I have seen this debate unfold on Facebook and other places and it seems there is a definite opinion to be had on this.  "You'll ruin the romance in your relationship!"  Well, first of all, Shark Bait isn't super romantic anyway. He's mushy, but I wouldn't say romantic.  For example, the day we got the keys to this new house, Shark Bait was starting to bring things over and I was at work.  The first thing he brought was a pony refrigerator magnet and a stuffed pony. He took a picture of them in the new house and texted it to me.  That's pretty sweet.  That's the stuff Shark Bait does.  We don't do candles, wine and music and any of that Fifty Shades of Grey stuff.  So, I would say, we haven't ruined the romance.  I mean, do we joke about poop far more that is probably necessary?  Sure.  When you live in place where there are no secrets, there are times when you have to say, "So, you're gonna want to stay out of there for a while..."  Or, all the sudden you get a whiff of something and you are like, "Oh Em Gee...what the hell happened in there?  Did something DIE???" And, I'm not going to lie, the words, "I think I just pooped something the size of a baby's arm...I think I need to drink more water..." have been said in our home.  Shit happens.

Some people are like, "As far as my spouse knows, I don't poop and they don't poop."  Like, there is water running or excuses or lengths people go to so that they can avoid their partner knowing that they are pooping.  Maybe it is just a personality thing, I don't know.  Maybe I am just an over-sharer that managed to hook up to someone that could care less.  We were the perfect storm and now we are one perfect storm of pooping perfection.  Like, I don't have to pretend that I had a make-up crisis and that's what took so long, or that I got something in my eye.  I was pooping. Period.  I might even have done things in there that created a disturbance in the force.  I don't know.  I'm just saying, I left the fan on and yes, I sprayed.  None of this is lady-like.  None of this is delicate.  I think I've been broken from this one bathroom situation that has gone on for far too long.  It didn't help that I used to have IBS when Shark Bait and I first met, so pooping pretty much ruled my life.  Luckily I don't anymore, but the walls are down.  We can't unknow that I poop, or that Shark Bait poops.  Look, I get that it is private and it's gross, but it's necessary. 

So, if you are reading this and you didn't know your significant other poops, I'm sorry I just ruined it for you. Let me just come clean and let you know also that Santa...fraud.  Easter Bunny? Nope.  Tooth Fairy? If you moved out of your parents home, dead.  The Great Pumpkin?  Jury is out on that one, I don't know for sure.

I'm sorry.  Someone had to tell you.

So, I don't know if we are going to try and re-create any boundaries, but the foundation is here if we decide to embark on such a journey.  2016 is going to be an interesting year.  The possibilities are endless.  The poop...also endless, but now, it might just be none of anyone's business.  I might be able to add some mystery to my persona.  I mean, I probably won't because I'm an over-sharer, but if I wanted to...I can.

Look at me really reaching for the stars...and it's only January 1st. 

More to come, my friends...more to come (I wasn't even meaning poop when I just said that, look at me already creating boundaries).

2015 - It's not forever, it's just for now

Well, here we are on the last day of 2015.  I haven't blogged much this past year and I don't really even remember what all has transpired.  It wasn't a particularly great year from what I remember.  It had a few high points, but it was not a year of moving forward or accomplishing anything amazing. Which begs the question, does every year have to include something amazing?  Was survival the amazing accomplishment? Is that good enough?

I know the last three months of this year, for Shark Bait and I, have SUCKED ASS. But what happened the rest of the year?  Where did things stagnate?  When did I give up?  When?  It's all just a blur.  So, I went to my blog, where all my drama is housed.  I found this blog: http://angry-pony.blogspot.com/2015/02/best-cry-of-2015.html.  Oh yeah, that's right. That's where I gave up.  I remember now.


OH, and also life changing, my band of Boot Bitches slowly all left the Glass Palace.  There are just two of us left there, but we are in different departments.  To lose that daily support really impacted me more than I thought it would.  We all still stay in contact when we can via Facebook chats, but ultimately, it just isn't the same.  No more hug threats, no more chocolate interventions...just...not the same.  I mean, I have Camo Boy, who was kind of our boy member, of sorts, but he just doesn't have a uterus.  I miss the daily presence of my bitches but am thankful that we still talk stuff through. Shark Bait will say, "What's going on with the Bitches today?"  I'll be like, "Oh, so and so is a shy pooper..." or "so and so's kid thinks there is grass in her hoo hoo..." or "We're thinking about having a reality show about being bounty hunters..."  You know, important stuff.  They are still my sounding board on the serious stuff, too, and I am theirs.  That is what friendship is about, being there even when you can't physically be there. I heart those bitches.

On a positive note, Shark Bait and I did get to go to California this year. Granted, it was for a memorial service for his uncle that passed unexpectedly, but we did get a few days to spend with friends and family that were enjoyable.  We drove around in a convertible in the sunshine and for just a few days, we enjoyed each other and contemplated the importance of taking advantage of every moment together as tomorrow is not promised.  A lesson well-learned by the reason for our visit.  The trip was over too fast but it was a highlight of 2015.


Over the last three months, the whole year kind of happened all at once, really.  Due to a problem with paperwork and regulations, Shark Bait was out of work from the end of September until, well, hopefully he will be back to work next week, on January 4th.  I thought that was a kick in the gut.  And then, over Thanksgiving weekend, we found out our landlord was actively advertising the property we were living at for rent.  We found out that she was illegally renting the cabin we live in due to the fact it was never coded as a livable residence with the county, and she was renting three residences on one piece of property, attempting to rent to a fourth person.  So, anyway, there are a lot more details to it, but bottom line, we needed to move. Things got ugly fast and there was not enough Xanax to make it okay. Shark Bait and I had to find a home for us, the dogs and the ponies at the worst time of the year.  Merry freaking Christmas.

We had no money saved up for deposits or moving expenses since we were already living very tight on one income.  We started looking at what was for rent and the reality was, we needed to choose something that would not include the ponies.  And, finding something that would take the dogs was another challenge.  I spent days crying about the ponies and the thought of not being able to live with them.  I had to adopt the motto of, "It's just for now, it's not forever."  It was still hard, but Shark Bait and I were able to put a deposit on a house with a big yard that would take the dogs.  The ponies would go live with Mom.

In spite of feeling like our world was crashing down around us and that life was not fair and that maybe I was being punished for something, Shark Bait and I were also very fortunate.  We were able to quickly sell the little fishing boat he had, some of his extra toys and I sold my fancy show saddle.  We were lucky, in a sense.  And, I did not, for one moment take that for granted.  We were fortunate that in our darkest hour there were people there to help us and we were able to make it happen.  And, while it sucked Shark Bait was not working, he was able to have the time off to get us moved out of the cabin and into the house.  I mean, I don't want to go so far as to say we "lucked out," but some things did work in our favor given the circumstances.

Everyone says things happen for a reason.  I don't know if I believe that or not.  However, during our move, we did discover a hole and the floor rotting underneath our bed which could have very easily lead to us being seriously injured had the floor given way while we were in bed.  I guess it's a good thing Shark Bait and I didn't do anything too crazy up there in the loft, we may have had a lot of explaining to do...we'll chalk that up to a 2015 success story.  So, maybe we were being "looked out for" or maybe we just lucked out.  It is comforting to believe we are being looked out for.  So maybe that is what we'll go with.

Anyway, as we started to settle in to the new house, the hits just seemed to keep coming.  We had not even been in our house a week and our dog was pounced on, in our very own yard, by a neighbor dog and her back leg broken.  Yeah, cuz I got money for that kind of vet bill.  So, I am thankful that I have enough money to take her to the vet, but pissed, because now I can't pay some other bills.  No cushion.  I'm torn on how that glass is looking right now, half-full, half-empty.  While I was pondering the water level, I also chipped my front tooth on a water bottle.  Seriously, enough 2015!  ENOUGH.

All that fourth quarter B.S. aside, kind of a boring year all in all.  But as I sat here tonight trying to decide what to write, not wanting to be melancholy baby and not wanting to go on about weight drama, I didn't really know what to think.  It's all so boring and uninspiring.

And then, my sister stopped by with her friend Thai-Dan.  It seems he has bigger problems.  His Dad, who is 72, is living in Thailand and has a girlfriend Thai-Dan's age.  Apparently she wants a baby, so Thai-Dan's Dad wants to know if Thai-Dan will pony up some sperm.  We all then shared a conversation about would that make the baby his child or his sibling? It seems complicated.  And then, would he do it the "natural way" or would he donate his spermies.  Then he said his Mom just married another woman and they are moving to Maui.  What if they want another child.  He could have two sets of siblings/children.  And then, should he marry his kind-of-girlfriend he has in Thailand?  If he does, it will cost him $13,000, because that's what they do in Thailand.  I was like, dude, you can have sex in America for free.  He said that any marriage is a business transaction of some sort.  I said, "Well, when Shark Bait and I married, there was no dowry.  Neither one of us brought any major cash to the marriage.  And here we are, working on our 8th year of marriage and have worked our way up to renting a 1988 mobile home."  I asked him, "Do you love her? Or do you just want exotic sex?"  Thai-Dan didn't have a really good answer to that.  I told him to just take his wiener international.  Don't get married just because, right? Young people problems, no thank you.

I sat there and contemplated the things on Thai-Dan's mind and what was going on in his life.  I'll take my boring little life, I guess. I think things seem complicated for me sometimes, but I know what I want and where I'm going.  I don't always know how to get there, or if I do, I don't always do what I should to get there, but I know, you know?

As I sit here typing this, I guess at this moment when I think I have nothing to be particularly proud of or to celebrate, I have this:  I have Shark Bait.  No matter what happens to us, we handle it.  We survive.  We buckle down and get through the shit life throws at us, but we also enjoy the stuff we are blessed with.  We have been hit with some tough stuff from the day we got married going forward. And there are days we don't see eye to eye and there are days when we are two people just trying not to lose our shit, but there are the important days that we rally.  The days when it is all falling down around us and we pull together and come out that much stronger.  I have to celebrate that.  Maybe there are no riches, maybe there are no fancy houses, maybe there are no little black dresses, but there is us.

Overall, the year happened to me rather than me happening all over that year.  But, it's done.  I will not beat myself up over it.  I will move on, with some regret, but I will move on nonetheless.

So, 2015, thank you for giving me "us," but keep the rest of that shit out of 2016.