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Buffy's Commentary

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About this blog

Because I don't opine nearly enough elsewhere.  Actually this is a weird little repository for things that amuse me...which don't always amuse other people but I'm okay with that.

Entries in this blog

 

At war with myself

I keep telling myself no good will come of getting anxious and vomiting the night before an interview.  Plenty of time for that in the morning. Apparently I disagree, as every reason for ever rejection in my life is on a recursive loop in my head broken up only by analyzing my multitude of failures one by one in great detail. I don't know why I am putting this out there in a place it can't be deleted, but I do it consciously.  Maybe someday the people who love me will someday read it and understand.  I've tried to explain, but they don't get it. I have more love and help than I deserve but on a fundamentally emotional level I am completely alone.   I just got through feeding the dogs and cats, started dinner ... I sauted beef and onions, started the sauce, put water on to boil for the cremettes ... wiped my counters and washed the dishes. I am functioning but I don't know how.  I don't feel functional on even the most basic level, but my outer self keeps going through the motions.  Yesterday I spent hours washing the floors, did lots of laundry, listened to podcasts ... But half the time at the end of the cast I don't know what I heard.  I'm on autopiolot. At the very core of my being, my true self, is fear.  I am made of nothing but fear. I am afraid of the anxiety which will only increase until my interview.  I am afraid of the panic and despair that will come with rejection. I am afraid of the massive anxiety if I am hired. I need this job,  I want them to hire me.  But I don't kid myself ... I can feel the Pandora's box of additional anxieties just waiting to burst open if get the opportunity to fail on a bigger scale. Beyond the fear I am just acutely, painfully aware of how very alone I am in the world.  I have spent the last several months accepting that.   And I do.  Accept it.  But accepting it doesn't mean I know what to do now.

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

My Imaginary Christmas Barrel

I'm a big weirdo ... no shock to anyone reading here, I'm sure. Sometimes when I'm cleaning or doing laundry I look at my things and think, "Would I be happy if this was sent to me in Reverend Alden's Christmas barrel?" Those of you LHOP fans surely remember in The Long Winter when they finally got their Christmas barrel* in May they were thrilled with it's contents after a winter of such deprivation had I been alive and in those circumstances your children would know my name for my whining would gone down through the ages as a cautionary tale. I don't even remember what was in there besides some embroidery thread, a shawl for Ma?  And a frozen turkey. I remember as a little girl telling my mom it was terrible they wasted present space on food ... much like it was a waste when kids used to get fruit and nuts in their Christmas stockings when they can just go in the kitchen for those.  Don't worry, she schooled my privileged little ass on food scarcity. But back to my current weirdness ... so I was folding sheets and blankets today and thinking of how lovely they would have been to receive in a Christmas barrel.  How soft they are, how back in the 1800's the variety of color and patterns on my bed linens would have been remarkable.  Like the Ingalls I had people also settling the prairie in the day and luxuries were scarce at that time. It made me grateful for what I have.  I did the same with my cookware, books, and toiletries.   Based on nothing I think my ancestors would have most appreciated body wash and other personal care items, indoor plumbing, and terry cloth.   That's a tragedy of the prairie no one speaks about ... even when you could get the rare proper bath there was nothing absorbent with which to dry off.  And all their moisturizers were made with animal fat.  I have dry skin and I am so thankful I never had to choose between turning into buff jerky or smelling like old pot roast. I think St. Ives coconut body lotion in a Christmas barrel would have seemed like a miracle. And toe nail clippers.  When were they invented?  What did they do before them?  We take so much for granted in our day to day lives. And Crest toothpaste ... and mouthwash.  Along with a fresh new toothbrush would be a delightful treat in my barrel for 19th century fictional me. I sometimes think of how cool it would be to get a time machine and bring some of my great-whatever-grandma's from that era and see what they'd think of life today.  But then once they see how easy it is to do laundry and shower they'll never go back and once the novelty wore off it would just be a bunch of strangers asking me why I never speak to my cousins. *This barrel left such an impact on me I kept capitalizing it and had to go back and fix every time.   Stupid self important container.

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

A Pibble in Pajamas!

I haven't dug out the Hello Kitty Christmas jammies yet but I saw this at a thrift store today and couldn't resist. His mommy and I think he's adorable in pink penguin and snowman motif.  

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

If there were reality TV cameras in my house...

There would be a thread about me and you would all be mocking me relentlessly. I thought about that earlier when I was singing the chorus of The Butt-Wiggling Song for the umpteenth time today (with accompanying choreographed dance.) I just adore my grandpibble, but he's what one would call a lively dog.  Or a handful.  So I do what I did when my kids were small and also getting a little too rambunctious (I had 'lively' children.  No surprise as according to my mom I was a 'lively' girl myself) and that is ... out silly them. See, sometimes the chaos and the noise makes me want to yell and get cranky.  And I don't like me that way so I subvert it with made up songs and ridiculous dance numbers.  Or sometimes puppet shows with socks and potatoes.  Or free form poetry disguised as rap battling the four legged ones.  I always win - I suck but I'm more verbal than the dogs are and the cats just ignore me. Once, when my youngest kidult walked in while I was in the middle of signing my latest hit, "Who's My Sack of Love Potatoes?" he stopped and just stared stonefaced until I was done.  I reminded him I did this to them when they were small and his reply,  "I know.  Sometimes I wish you'd have just smacked us instead." I don't know where he gets his sarcasm.      

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

Help Interpreting Dreams?

The last 3 nights I've had 3 separate dreams.  Nothing remarkably good or bad, just moderate surreal to normal stuff.  But in each there was one man. I didn't see his face.  In the context of each dream we were together in a long term relationship.  I loved him and felt he loved me in that settled and secure ltr way. In each dream there was softcore erotic activity, think Cinemax.  Each time I thought the same thing, this is pleasant...I don't mind this.  It wasn't that I was putting up with sex, but I didn't crave it either...it was fine.  As far as it went it was certainly adequate. I never knew his name, nor did I see his face.  But from the more intimate parts of him I did see in the dream he's not a past partner.  I didn't see anything I recognized. I'm not seeing anyone.  There is no one he reminded me of, no one I've been thinking about. So who is this guy?  And if I'm going to have sex dreams why can't it be better than merely pleasant.   My subconscious is letting me down ... but it's trying to tell me something.  But what?

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

Birthday Pizza - Eat At Your Own RIsk

For my son's birthday proper we did dinner at his favorite place and went to a midnight showing of Bohemian Rhapsody which was incredible - we both loved it.   They had reclining chairs and slurpees!  He goes to the movies all the time but I never do so he enjoyed watching me marvel at things as if I was new to this planet. For his day after birthday dinner (because I will stretch their celebrations) I made homemade pizza. Well, Boboli, so home assembled more than made, but still.  Hand crafted. Now before you read on and assume I'm a mom from the book of Jrod or Nog I'll have you know these are his favorite toppings.  He orders this when having pizza delivered and yes, always needs to verify it's a real order and he's not kidding. So...atop the Boboli crust was some pizza sauce, mozzarella, pepperoni, Italian sausage, mushrooms, black olives, and onion.  So far so normal. Also imagine a normal amount of garlic one would put on a pizza and double it.  Then imagine the amount of anchovies you would consider too much on a pizza and double it. A generous amount of jalapenos, blue cheese, and feta cheese.  Anchovy oil drizzled over the top.  He loved every bite and is sleeping like a baby.  I, on the other hand, have second hand heartburn just from being in close proximity. I know he's an adult and I am so proud of the man he's become ... but I still love fussing over him.  He's still my baby.  Always.

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

National Days of Obligation

@47of74 posted yesterday about it being National Cats Day it reminded me, much to my shame, that I have neglected to consult the National Day Calendar and have been remiss my Non-Holy Days of Obligation. So let's take a look at what we have coming up for the rest of this week: Today: National Candy Corn Day (did you know it was made with marshmallows?  Marshmallows are food of the gods.) National Publicist Day  Tomorrow 10/31 National Knock-Knock Joke Day Thursday 11/01 National Brush Day National Cook for your Pets Day National Vinegar Day National Deep Fried Clams Day National Men Make Dinner Day (which I guess would make it a day of fasting for me) Friday 11/02 National Banana Cream Pie Day National Deviled Egg Day (that's picnic eggs to you Maxwell thread dwellers) National Broadcast Traffic Professionals Day (Isn't every day NBTPD?)

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

Sometimes Life Doesn't Even Wait Until You Get Out of Bed...

To start sucking. A little after 5:00 this morning I woke up and when I went to get a up a shot of pain went through my head.  Turns out my arm was on my hair and the harder I tried to get up the harder I was pulling it. As this was happening I tried to open my eyes but they'd been crusted shut from crying last night so for a few scary seconds this morning I was wildly disoriented, blind, and trapped by my own hair. Went back to sleep and about an hour later was jolted awake when one of the cats knocked a metal cat bowl off the dresser and it hit the hardwood and rang out like a shot. Got up and took something for my then throbbing head and went back to sleep...until about 45 minutes ago when I sat bolt upright when a Johnny Cash song at full volume assaulted by ears. No offense to Johnny Cash fans.  Idk when my son decided to join your ranks and that is a wholly unacceptable way to finally greet the day. Even with a splitting headache (coffee is helping) and much morning weirdness I feel better than I did last night.  I need to brew some tea so I can use the bags to hopefully bring some of this eye swelling down, not that looking like I am riddled with mumps isn't a wildly attractive look. Late start, but it was a late night.  I'm going to finish my coffee, pour another cup, set my schedule for today in 20 minute increments, and plow ahead.      

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

Self Soothe Fail

I hate flooding the blog list with consecutive posts, but I need to purge a little and I don't want to put it in a thread where people may feel obligated to respond. I've always been pretty good at self-soothing, and still am sometimes...but other times like tonight nothing works. Hormones are attacking my brain...had long ugly cry and through part of it i wasn't even upset...so weird.  And couldn't shake the crappy feeling so I gathered together my comfort things, set up my nightstand with everything I need in my pink basket...I know it sounds silly but the act of getting ready to comfort myself is comforting in and of itself. It wasn't this time.   I am now in bed, under my favorite covers....snuggled next to the two most cuddly dogs in the world...watching some cool vids of Great British Ghosts.  I have some juice and am slathered in moisturizer, my hair freshly brushed.  The window cracked open making the room the perfect kind of chilly. It's not helping.  All my failures (and there are many) keep running through my head on a loop, punctuated only by those who I have loved but lost...and all the ways I failed them.   There is no point in trying to make sense of it or address it...it's as if my hormones found a key to the self-loathing room in my mind-palace and unleashed all the fucking demons I keep locked in there.  All I can do it ride it out. I keep remembering the part of a video I saw where it said anxiety is an experience people go through, it's not who they are.  It will end, it always does. I don't have panic attacks...I don't have the severe reactions, I just feel like shit.  Like I'll never be able to turn off the negative loop in my head...and my body hurts all of a sudden.  I'm achy all over and I wasn't before - I know it's some kind of physiological response to stress.   I am typing because it helps.  Putting it in black and white takes some of the power away from my nagging thoughts. A kitty joined us on the bed.  If just the other cat would hop up we'd hit our cuteness quotient. I am acutely aware of how soft my blanket is and how deeply big dog is breathing.   My boys in their rooms down the hall...sound asleep.  Healthy and safe...focusing on my gratitude for having truly wonderful kids who...so proud of them.  I'm lucky...three for three I don't just love them, I like them as people.  A lot. I'll get through this but I swear sometimes this feels less like a life change than a life hijacking.    

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

So far I have...

Last night I did the upstairs floors.  Hardwood is gleaming and tiles so clean I am mildly annoyed my family insists on walking on them. So far today I've made a casserole for dinner and will be making an apple crisp this afternoon while doing laundry.   Why am I no one's helpmeet?  I think my domestic skills are up to par, so I must have some pretty unappealing characteristics to make me not worth the cooking and clean house.

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

If time travel was a thing.

I am watching this as I clean and thinking of my ancestors, especially the women who worked so much harder at domestic tasks than we ever will. My distant grandmothers who did laundry by soaking, after hauling the water in buckets and collecting the wood for the fire, beating the linen with paddles - becoming human machine agitators.  Collecting urine and using it for soaking and stain removal....wringing heavy fabric...they were their own spin cycles.  Being at the mercy of the weather and even when that was on their side it was back breaking labor. I would love a time machine to bring them with me as I pop down to the laundry room to toss in a load.  I think the automation and urine free detergent might be far more remarkable to them than the moon landing or YouTube. I love historical documentaries that focus on domestic life...I find the day to day lives of normal people far more fascinating than the elite.  I enjoy thinking of these women who came before me, wondering what they would think of how we do things today.   I think laundry and indoor plumbing (including toilet paper) might well be their favorite change.  The ease of hygiene for both our bodies and environments...I think that may well seem absolutely miraculous if they could pop over to my house in 2018. https://youtu.be/NvdWc4WcYXA But they need to call first - I do not appreciate drop in guests.

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

The Door Finally Opened

I've had a particular house recur in my dreams ever since I was little.  In my dreams it's usually my Gramma's house, but it's not the one she had irl.  In fact I've never seen this house outside my dream. There are two stories but I've only been on the first level and the basement.  I remember a few dreams walking up stairs to a locked door, but I don't recall ever being on the second floor. Until last night.   I walked up the stairs with the cranberry colored carpet and came to a door that was not only locked but had been painted over many times with thick white paint, The hinges had disappeared under layers of paint. I turned the knob and the door opened easily.  I walked into an upstairs landing that was bright and clean...sunlight streaming in through french doors that opened onto a balcony.  I walked down a hall peeking in rooms...in awe at how comfortable and sparkling it all was.  There were several bedrooms, a bathroom with gorgeous blue tile, a cozy living room.  The furnishings were soft, comfortable...lots of white and blue with accents of navy and pink.  Overstuffed and comfortable....beautiful floral patterns but not too many.  Welcoming, comfortable, warm....cozy and open.  The light scent of fresh flowers was in every room. My Gramma was downstairs but I didn't speak to her.  My mom was there, in her apricot colored bathrobe.  I turned to see that she had followed me up the stairs and ... Somehow I knew this was mine.  The upstairs belonged to me, not the house, not my Gramma...but me. I asked my mom why I had never been able to open the door before and she smiled and brushed my hair away from my face, as she always did and said, "Because you never needed it before."   ________________ I've been having a lot of nightmares lately, with my anxiety bringing life my darkest fears ... this was a welcome respite. ________________ It's stayed with me all day.  I knew in the dream and I knew when I woke that it wasn't about the second floor or any physical place.  It was a message that I have what I need to get through this difficult time...I just didn't know because I never needed it before.  And all I have to do to unlock it is walk through the door and embrace it.  

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

PSA - Warning Against Slipperiness

There are three things you need to know about me to appreciate how I spent part of my early evening: I am clumsy I have a deep bathtub I am an idiot Muscle aches and anxiety I took a nice hot bath with salts...two birds one stone, right?  I am nothing if not efficient. And smart enough to take the bath mat out so I could sink into the tub with no annoying friction getting in the way.  It was a lovely bath...until I drained the tub and reached for my moisturizer.  They kind you can apply when wet, it's very handy for after shower....but not so much the bath. I, like the dumbass that I am, took advantage of lying down in the now empty tub to moisturize all over to save having to do my feet and legs when I dried off. Yes, in a slick, deep tub with no mat I slathered moisturizer on the bottoms of my feet, backs of legs, and other posterior parts of my anatomy that come into contact with the tub.   In addition of course to my hands and arms.   I tried to stand up, lost my grip on the sides, and slid around like a porpoise in Tony Hawks swimming pool if it was coated in oil. I can hear you asking the obvious, "Hey Dummy, why didn't you just grab a towel and wipe off?" I thought of that, but because of my ill advised slathering I couldn't get to the one hanging on the rack about 1.5 inches out of reach. After lying there cold, angry, and stupid for far too long I was able to get out, at great risk to both myself and the shower curtain.  We both lived to tell the tale.   I clearly need adult supervision. I may be an idiot...      

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

My Dog the Therapist

The TLDR of exposition is I've never struggled with anxiety until this year, so this is a new adventure in hell for me.  The combination of my life falling to shit at the same time peri-menopause decided to commandeer my hormones to attack me emotionally...let's just say I'm not the happiest I've ever been lately. I got a few hours of broken sleep last night and woke up feeling unrested and full on anxious.  The kind of anxiety you can feel in your skin...that sickening tingly feeling that goes along with the fear.   Then the super fun cycle of my head telling me I needed to eat to stave off a migraine while my stomach was telling me in no uncertain terms to not even think about it.  Nothing soothes anxiety like violent dry heaves! So I brush my face and wash my teeth and go back to bed.  I put on a guided meditation type video and followed along with the deep breathing as I snuggled against my big dog.  (Smaller dog was also in bed, but at the foot and out of cuddle range.) He is part mastiff, part rot and is a good 135 lbs.  So you see I was not exaggerating, big dog is indeed accurate.   I was buried deep under a sheet, down duvet, soft fleece blanket, and a light quilt because that sometimes helps.  I was focused on the video and my breathing and the closeness of my pup when he decided to help... He got up and changed positions and lay across me.  I have often wished I had one of those heavy anxiety blankets, but I don't...apparently he decided to be that for me.  It really helped. I didn't move as I didn't want him to shift off me...he was comfy and I felt safer somehow....and I continued to breathe and meditate along with the video.  The plan was to calm down and get to some level of functionality but I fell asleep.  Woke up a few hours later grateful for the needed sleep, annoyed I'd slept away most of the morning, and feeling marginally better. I ate, so the threatening migraine clouds seemed to have moved on leaving only a normal headache, but my digestive system is punishing me for daring to eat. I would really like the various parts of my body to get together and work out some kind of feasible plan for functionality.  I am so uncooperative with myself. As bad as things are at times the hero of the story this particular day is my gentle giant.  He knew exactly what I needed and just quietly gave it to me without fanfare...for the price of reciprocal cuddles. (It is almost time to start dinner and I have done nothing all day except meditate while trying to set the world record for vomiting in a day.      

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

27 Kids - Famewhoring Before TLC

31 years of marriage 27 children.  All single births. No appliances That not only means cooking over a wood burning stove, but laundry by hand.  Before disposable diapers. Heliodore Cyr from New Brunswick, Canada....Duggaring before TLC. It's noted in the comments that only 19 survived to adulthood.  I cannot imagine losing one child much less 6 and continuing to function.      

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

I Am Not an Incontinent Snow Woman

Two things about me:  One of my favorite feelings is snuggling under the covers when the room is chilly.  I blame reading Laura Ingalls Wilder and the Long Winter during a particularly impressionable part of my childhood. Upon waking I am always discombobulated to the degree it takes me a few to figure out who and where I am. So this morning I woke and happily dug deep enjoying the warmth of my bed against the fall morning, cuddled on three sides by a giant dog and two cats (my animal parenting involves co-sleeping...stop judging me, they aren't in your bed.) Still half asleep I roll over and my arm hits wetness.  There is a large patch of duvet soaking wet and freezing cold.  My first thought, I kid you not, was "I must be a snowman now and wet the bed.  Is this going to happen every night?" The weird thing is I wasn't alarmed.  It seemed like a perfectly reasonable conclusion to draw given the circumstances.   Once I shook the sleep from my brain I realized it was actually the ice pack I was using for my sore elbow as I fell asleep had leaked in the night.  
As I got up grabbed some much needed coffee, tossed the duvet in the dryer, and changed the sheets I wondered...If I had transformed and if I had wet the bed....would that make yellow snow?  I know so little about the renal system of snow people.

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

Uneventful Events

I know this is a boring blog, but I don't have an Instagram with which to be publicly annoying. Today was okay.  I did not do the new terrifying/exciting thing I was going to try, but I will.   Today had other plans. The tire pressure light lit up on the car so had to figure out what to do about that.  Between google, @Destiny, my son, and a new tire gauge* got that squared away.   I paid a couple bills and instead of despair remembering how much easier this used to be, I was filled with a sense of gratitude that I was able to do so and that for right now, today, we're okay.  Thanks to my buddy Marcus Aurelius. I tried to deposit money with a withdrawal slip and took me way too long to figure out why she was asking me what I wanted to do.  Thanks to my buddy ADHD. I used a public bathroom and didn't die.  Yet. I opened my glove box and found my prescription sunglasses I thought I lost months ago...they are my most favorite thing in the world and there was much rejoicing.  Thanks to my buddy St. Anthony. Did some laundry, some dishes.  I'm on my own for dinner so I'm making Rice-A-Roni (chicken, in case you were wondering) ...my boys don't like it so it's a nice treat for me when I'm alone.  And might make a burger and eat it plain with A-1...because I am nothing if not a gourmet.   But the best part of today was no tears.  No moments of self loathing, no anxiety.  Days like this are few and far between lately and they are a much needed respite when I get them.   I didn't accomplish what I wanted to, but that's okay. I will.  After dinner, a shower, and getting into some snuggy pajamas.   Speaking of dinner...I have to go check on it but I'm currently in the middle of a cuddle puddle of two dogs and two cats lying on me and each other on half of a queen size bed.  But go I must because Rice-A-Roni won't turn itself down to simmer. (*actually two.  Read the package before buying something new is a lesson I've yet to learn, apparently.)

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

TLDR: Life Continues to Suck but This Will Never Be My New Normal

So another rough day yesterday, what else is new?  I had an all canine nursing team at the beginning of the evening ...I swear these guys are having meetings and setting shift schedules. I think I'm on some kind of watch. I have been making a concerted effort to isolate less, so against character I picked up when one of my sisters called.  Normally I'd have ignored it making a mental note to call her when I was in a better place, and on a good day text her to tell her that.  But pick up I did.  A lot of crying and a couple hours later I felt a little better for a while.  Maybe there is something to this letting people love you thing. There were parts of that call, and there have been times here on FJ last few weeks, where I've felt like myself again.  It was nice...I really liked the old me and I miss her.  A lot.  The person I've become is a hot mess and I don't like her.  I feel sorry for her, but she's not someone I'd choose to spend time with.  Unfortunately she's moved into my head and lives here now. Who knows, maybe the healthy part of me that flits in and out will get stronger and kick her out. (FYI this is an analogy and not a mental break.  Also I know this is self-indulgent and of interest to no one but me, but as we can't delete on FJ perhaps my descendants will enjoy reading about my decline as captured in real time.)  

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

A Nightmare and a Not So Random Aftermath

I had a bad day and into the evening anxiety wise so it would seem like going to sleep early was a good thing. Well, I didn't so much 'go to sleep' as 'crash while reading on top of the covers' but I'll take what I can get these days. And it might have been a good thing if I didn't have a nightmare from hell, worse than any I've had in years.  It was as if my individual worries and anxieties all came to be in lifelike powerful manifestations and attacked me at once. I literally felt viciously attacked by my own fears.  Unfortunately it wasn't a lucid dream, which I do have from time to time...there was no escape button on this one. I sat up bolt upright and it took me a second to realize the dogs were barking at something outside the living room window.  I ran to them, tripping over my dresser (ow) sure I needed to try to protect up and knowing I couldn't.  I was ugly crying, struggling to breathe, and my heart was pounding so hard it was scaring me on top of everything else. During those first few seconds I was aware that I had had a nightmare, but it all felt so real it took me a minute or so to realize I was safe in my home.  Watching my neighbor leave for work which was the only activity on the street and the dogs never bark at that ...so weird. I went back to bed but couldn't sleep...the nightmare just kept playing over and over in my head ...like I was surrounded by fear and I couldn't clear it.  I put on a reiki video that always soothes me and then my phone dings... I got a message from my friend in the UK ...due to the time difference he never expects to talk to me in what is to me the wee hours, but decided to see if I was up.  I told him I was in nightmare aftermath but he kept me talking. While this was happening my new nursing team jumped up on the bed gently demanding scritches and cuddles so I got under the covers and obliged my canine and feline caregivers.  (Bossy!) Slowly my breathing went back to normal and my heart stopped trying to escape my chest.  After an hour or so I was able to go back to sleep. Just so strange...the dogs barking when they never bark and my friend messaging when he never messages just when I needed it.   I don't know how ....I'm just grateful.

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy

 

SAHD are like indoor cats

I have two indoor cats.  Griffin is perfectly content to remain so and flees in fear from any open external door.  Sham-Wow*, on the other hand, casually stalks the back door when we let the dogs in and out awaiting an opportunity to pop out into the real world and have an adventure. After thwarting him again today I did what I often do and picked him up for a cuddle and I explained to him how I keep him inside because I love him so much I couldn't bear if anything happened to him. That inside our home he is always safe...that he has yummy noms, cozy places to sleep, wonderful toys with which to play, protection from the elements, and a family who loves him more than he will ever know. I told him how I worry about all the kitties who don't have such protections and have to worry about the dangers of the outside world.  Dangers like cars, other animals who aren't as loving as his fuzzy siblings, evil humans, environmental hazards.  I explained how lucky he is to be safe at home. Apologies to the Arndts for using their phrase unintentionally and without irony. As I was going over this for the 900th time, in my attempt to brainwash him, I realized there is very little difference between my cats and the SAHD of many of the families here. Except my cats have it a little easier as having been neutered their romantic urges are curtailed (without their consent.) Also my cats have never had to eat a meatless burrito or clean a ceiling fan. *His given name is Seamus...we're a nick-namey family.  

HerNameIsBuffy

HerNameIsBuffy



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  • Recent Status Updates

    • HerNameIsBuffy

      HerNameIsBuffy

      My 4th interview went well today, I just heard back that I am moving on to the next step.
      The 5th interview is next Tuesday.
      I am nursing my anxiety hangover (stole the perfect wording from @Kailash ) and happy I'm still in the running but looking forward to more stress and panic next week.
      I need a drink.
      · 8 replies
    • SassyPantswithASideofClass

      SassyPantswithASideofClass

      Well only a few more days till Thanksgiving. What is everyone doing?
      · 2 replies
    • Gobbles

      Gobbles

      I saw my car standing inside a garage at the dealer yesterday! Now all is left is the licensing stuff that needs to be done by them (or I could do that, but it is a lot easier if you let the dealer do it). So it seems like I will pick the car up this week. Yay!
      · 0 replies
    • Scrabblemaster

      Scrabblemaster

      I have to do laundry for two or three weeks. Specifically I have to fold about eight or ten loads of laundry. I planned it for yesterday. Now I plan it for today. On the plus side is, that I have enough clothes because of the weather changing. So if I only put away the trousers, I would be safe for one week minimum. Two weeks if I am lucky. Mh... I think that'll do...
      · 2 replies
    • HerNameIsBuffy

      HerNameIsBuffy

      My kidney is a nobody, yet keeps clamoring for attention.  I wonder if it would be more amenable if it were more popular?

      · 0 replies
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