observations on life, Uncategorized

A chronicle of cursedness. And cussedness.

About a month ago, when I lost the battle of wills with our front steps, my mood went into the pit and bottomed out.  I called to make an appointment with a psychiatrist (mine recently changed jobs and is no longer available.  This happens a lot.) They told me I could have an appointment in December–over two months away.  I complained, and now I have an appointment in November.  On election day.   My mood got a little better briefly when finally, after weeks of trying, I succeeded in making an appointment.  Then, yesterday, our dog went blind.  Just like that.  Blind.  Between the three cats, one of whom has only three legs, and a blind dog, I am, as always, at the mercy of the cussedness of the universe.  (And, we’re supposed to go to Washington D.C. for Thanksgiving with Jim’s daughter.  What do we do with a blind dog while we’re out of town?  He has to stay at home where things are familiar. Do I bribe and beg my friends to take care of him?  I guess.  What else can I do?  If I were them, I’d be sick of taking care of our pets all the time.)

So my mood is back in the cesspool, festering, reminding me that life is a constant battle with little, constant, incessant aggravations, and big awful circumstances over which we have no control.  Like these:

June 2010–My good friend Julene is diagnosed with cancer.

February 2011–My good friend Jim Nardini, Julene’s husand, dies.

April 2011–Lydia, my first cat and the love of my life, dies on our wedding day.

December 2011–My cat Mia dies.

March 2012–Julene dies.

Fall 2012–Jim’s Uncle Ted dies.

February 2013–My cat Sophie has her leg amputated.

July 2013–Jim has a stroke

October 2014–Our nephew dog, Easy, dies.

January-April 2015–We have a long, bitter, expensive (to say the least), stomach churning, tooth gnashing legal battle with Jim’s ex wife, complicated by Jim’s son who was here doing an internship for three weeks, staying at our house, and making his stay a literal living hell.  My mood dove into the pit and stayed there, briefly recovering for three weeks when my sister got a new dog in August.  Then:

September 2015–Our niece dog, Winnie, Easy’s successor, dies at age three months.  Mood bottoms out again.

Christmas 2015–Jim’s son comes to Christmas dinner and works his dysfunction magic. Mood sinks deeper into the muck.  He hasn’t been back in our house since.

October 2016–Our dog, Winston, goes blind.  And here we are.

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