Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Faux War Against Mothers

Let's talk about this for a moment, shall we? There have been a few stories in the media lately where women are claiming that motherhood is being attacked unfairly by such social media sites such as Instagram and Facebook. The claim is that these sites are removing photos and/or suspending accounts for those who have pictures of themselves breastfeeding their infants/children. There is even a very ridiculous article on a ridiculous web-based magazine (whose name I will not mention because it has to do with a blogger in particular who is trying to garner attention) with the headline "Is This Picture Pornography" or something like that. Below is a picture of a woman breastfeeding her two year old as she (the mother) walks down train tracks. This woman has had her Instagram account suspended at least three times I believe, and other mothers are having their accounts suspended as well, and the cry from this new "movement" is that Instagram and Facebook need to change their terms of service (TOS) because it isn't fair and is totally mommy-shaming to not allow pictures of breastfeeding.

I'm all for breastfeeding. I mean, I wasn't breastfed myself and I will never breastfeed in my life, but go nuts with that shit. And I see nothing wrong with doing it in public. I do find it a little weird that some women take multiple photos of such an ordinary activity but hey, whatever blows your skirt up, right? But breastfeeding has zero to do with the suspension of these women's accounts; the accounts were suspended because these mothers continually post nude or semi nude photos of their children. "I am teaching my child/ren that nudity is not something to be ashamed of and that we should all embrace our bodies" some say. Others whine on about how they are capturing the innocence and whimsy of these childhood years.

I get it. The Bat has a two year old niece (or somewhere around that age) and I don't know if this is still going on but for awhile there, pants just weren't her thing. Pants, underpants, skirts, bottoms of any kind. So usually when I'd see her in the house, she'd be, at very least, bottomless. Kids are like that. They like to run around naked or half naked at certain ages. I have never seen the Bat's sister in law whip out her phone to take a picture of these occurrences, nor have I seen this type of picture on her Facebook. And yes, my mother has at least one picture of my brothers and me in the bathtub and you can see all of our chests. But you know where that photo is? In her guest bathroom in her house. NOT on her Facebook page.

I also encourage the idea of teaching your children to embrace their bodies, especially girls because we all know what society has done to them at this point. But none of that is why these women continually post these pictures; they post these pictures out of their own vanity and narcissism. "Uhm, Simply, they are just posting pictures of their cute kids. Most parents are proud of their cute kids and want to share them, OK?" Yep, OK, perfectly understandable. But you know who looks at your public social media sites with these pictures other than friends, family, and fangirls?


That is why the TOS are in place. People have been contacted by authorities to let them know that pictures of their children (naked or fully clothed) have been found on a pedophiles computer. These photos were taken from these public sites. If you explain this to most mothers who have public sites with naked kid pics, most of them will grasp their pearls and either make their accounts private or scrub all their social media sites of any pictures of their kids. But there is the other type of mother, the one who has started this hilarious and disturbing movement, who refuse to listen. I've read things like "I'm sick and tired of people oversexualizing children" (uhm, so what is an OK amount of sexualizing when it comes to children, nutbag?) and "anyone who looks at these pictures and finds them at all sexual or anything other than perfectly innocent is just sick." Yeah, lady, that's the fucking point. There are sick individuals out there who do view your naked kid pics in a sexual way. These are the women who get their accounts routinely suspended and keep posting the pictures.

In my opinion, if the authorities ever find photos of these particular women's kids on a pedophiles machine, the mothers, too, should be punished because even after they've been educated, they've continued to post the pictures. Not only are they not allowing their children any sort of privacy, they are, essentially, peddling kiddie porn. That sounds really dramatic but if you are told why you can't post those photos and continue to do so, that is what you are doing. I understand your intentions were innocent; you need to understand that the consequences can be dreadful.

And the only reason this stupid movement is gaining any traction at all is because the mothers continue to insist that it is about breastfeeding - pictures of which both Instagram and Facebook have said they are fine with - and completely ignore every comment about how that isn't the issue. That article I mentioned earlier about the woman breastfeeding on train tracks (way to endanger your child by the way, dumbass)? The comments on it, from fans of her blog and non fans alike, both called her out stating that that was not the picture that got her Instagram shut down. People commented the same things in response to her blog post that linked the article and the only thing she said in way of a response was that it takes more than one picture to get your account suspended and that that picture had been taken down as well.

So for anyone who sees any sort of headline or news at 11:00 about a War Against Mothers or a War Against Breastfeeding, don't be take it at face value but research it before you join the bandwagon. A mother getting thrown out of a restaurant for whipping out her titty to feed her infant is one thing. A woman claiming a social media site shut down her account because of breastfeeding pictures is quite another. And never mind that stupid bitch who went to the media claiming she was kicked out of a concert because she was breastfeeding her infant when it turned out that she was asked to leave the pit area because security and police officers were worried about the child's hearing and about the possibility of a crowd surge causing the mother to fall or be crushed against a gate/wall, therefor injuring the child. She was offered a seat in a safer area or a full refund. How do we know? Because the stupid bitch posted like four videos on You Tube about it and you can see/hear the officers routinely state that it was not her breastfeeding but her endangering her child that led to her removal.

In all these instances, everyone is more concerned about the children then their own mothers and that is a god damned shame.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Q&A: Bipolar

A friend recently asked me about my experience with being bipolar. This person did not ask “what is it like”, which is a small mercy. Asking me what it is like to be bipolar is, I think, like asking someone who is a twin what that is like. I was diagnosed about 11 years ago; my onset of bipolar was almost definitely earlier. I don’t know what it is like to be bipolar because I don’t know what it is like to be “normal” anymore.

I know memory is shit, that we have “flashbulb memories” that aren’t true. But I’m pretty sure about this one. It was 10/31/2003 when I went to the psychiatrist at my university and, upon being asked why I was there, answered with “I’m pretty sure I’m bipolar.” I was studying for my degree in English and Psychology and things had gotten beyond fucked up in my personal life because of my brain. It was a mixture of reading a book called An Unquiet Mind and taking a Psychopathology class that made me realize I had a problem, one that could be treated rather than just being crazy without help, as I’d thought for so many years.

And it was years. It was years of somewhat losing my mind, having mini breakdowns and just assuming it was either the way of the world or I was just fucked up without hope. I would hug my stuffed cow and cry and rock back and forth and hope that no one would hear me whilst also hoping my mother would so I could finally come clean.

At the age of almost 23, I did come clean to the psychiatrist. She diagnosed me as bipolar II after a few sessions, having asked me a few questions. I was relieved in one respect. Oh my god! I’m not beyond help! I’m not crazy! There is something wrong with me, yes, but there is help. That was the best news I’d ever heard.

Oddly, as good as the news was that a couple of medications would help me, I wasn’t great about taking them for the first two years. If you don’t know bipolar, you won’t understand. Here is the thought process, at least for me: “Why do I have to take drugs to know how I feel?” “Why do I have to always fucking question what I’m feeling and ask myself ‘do I feel this way or is it my neurotransmitters?” “Why doesn’t everyone have to go through this, because this shit is bullshit.” This is, I believe, common amongst those with mental illness. I know it took me awhile but, eventually, I changed my thinking because I was better with the drugs and I realized it was the same as having diabetes or a thyroid disorder (which I was also later diagnosed with). I have a medical problem, not a mental problem. The worst thing to ever happen to mental illness, as I’ve said many a time, is the term mental illness. It is a chemical imbalance, which is physical. I have a problem which needs help. I need fewer of one neurotransmitter and more of another. It took me at least two years to understand that and to accept it because, fuck this shit, I have an issue, I have medication to help and god damn it, I want to be a normal, functioning and, most importantly, HAPPY fucking person.

Bipolar is a fucking bitch. Once you finally accept it, you realize, sooner or later, that you have to keep it to yourself because there are a lot of assholes out there. It sucks. You can’t be honest because people will judge every action based on your disorder. You don’t want to tell people because you feel this weird sense of shame; you don’t necessarily feel ashamed but you feel the shame people expect you to.

You know what? I have bipolar II disorder. I take medications for it. I take a puppy upper (anti-depressant) and doggy downer (mood stabilizer). I don’t need therapy anymore because I’m 33 at this point and I see a psychiatrist. I was in group at first, and it was part of the whole saving my life. I had a lot of shit going on and they just, well, they were there for me. I do, however, have to see a psych to get my meds at this point because of where I live but I’m good and don’t have anything to talk about. But there were years where I did, years where talking helped, years that helped me learn and understand that a LOT of people have fucked up problems like diabetes, cancer, endocrine problems, illnesses much worse than mine, years that helped me realize how fucking lucky I was.

Later, like almost 10 years later, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I had been terrified of MS my entire life for no reason. Didn’t know anyone with it, didn’t know anything about it beyond the whole losing feeling in your fingertips. This I learned from TV and movies. My family dies of cancer but I was scared of MS. When I was diagnosed… my god, I lost my shit. I have bipolar II for fuck’s sake I have psoriasis, now I have this? But it could have been worse, I could have had ALS or Cancer or something horrible. MS is livable. Just as bipolar is. MS is worse. MS is less well understood. MS affects me physically. I can live with both but I’ve been dealt a worse hand. Oddly, I think being diagnosed with bipolar II helped me be OK with the MS, even though the latter will most likely kill me. Because there are treatments and it COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE.

I am 33 and ½ years old now (well, I was 33 ½ in June and we are now in July so…). I have bipolar II. I take my meds and I am good. My biggest concern, my biggest fear, my main thought should it happen is “what if I can’t have my medicine?” Without my medicine, I am not myself. Without my medicine I am fucked up and out of control. Not even THAT out of control based on your standards but I am not myself and I don’t like that. I am better than my bipolar. It doesn’t define me like I thought it would. What defines me are the thoughts and feelings and values I have when I am myself without the influence without my fucked up brain.

Medicine is the best thing to happen to this girl. I wish I could go back and tell my 22 year old self that because I would have saved a lot of heartache. When people tell me they thank God for my deliverance or whatever, I think “fuck you, God had nothing to do with this. Science did. I am normal, I am me, I am OK, because of science.” It was hard at first but when I found myself again? It was fucking epic.

And, honestly, I wish I could go back to the 8th grade and tell myself that I needed help because it may have started as early as then. I wish I could go back and save myself and my family a lot of drama and pain. But I’m proud of myself for identifying my issue at 22, almost 23. And although it took me awhile, I’m proud of myself for having been great about taking my medication from the age of 25.

Because that girl? That one without medication? That isn’t who I am. I don’t know what non bipolar Simply is like because I don’t remember. But I DO remember what bipolar untreated Simply is like and I never want to go back there. I just wish I’d gotten here sooner. But hey, I’m here now, right?

Friday, July 18, 2014

Plan Fails and Sulking

Weekend is upon me and I have no plans. I guess I could make them but I'm too busy being annoyed and butthurt to bother. Why you ask?

Exhibit A: Wednesday is date night, the night where we go out and do something (almost always have dinner) and the one night where he has to be super nice to me. That afternoon while we were chatting back and forth over Facebook, the Bat suggested we go shopping. I was all for it and was happy go lucky for the rest of the day. When I got home from work, he informed me that Phoenix was in the area for a job and would be stopping by for awhile. No big deal, we hadn't seen him for awhile, and we usually don't go out until 5:30 or 6 anyway. But... because the Bat had been socializing (read: had drank 2 or 3 whiskey and Sprites) he wasn't in the mood to drive all the way to the particular store we were going to. So date night ended up being a meal at Applebee's. Yes, Applebee's.

Exhibit B: I asked during date night if we could go shopping the following day since our plans had been trashed for date night. The Bat said sure and that it was going to rain so we'd need something to do. Once we were both home from work and had discussed our days and whatnot, the Bat informed me that he wasn't in the mood to go shopping because he didn't want to drive that distance and deal with other drivers because of the rain. Do you see what happened there? At first the rain was a good reason for us to go but then it became the reason for us not to go. Was I disappointed? Yep. Was I surprised? Nope. I really had seen it coming. Plans with me are the ones he'll break; I have to assume it's because we see each other all the time and so plans with me don't matter as much because he can always make it up to me. He did once. He made up for Valentine's Day by taking me on a picnic when we went to Oklahoma. I think there are a few outstanding owes out there but I just let it go because that way when it doesn't happen, I won't be upset.

So why bother making plans? The Bat's friend is coming over tomorrow morning to help work on the air conditioning, which is in dire need of repair (poor Monkey's room is stuffy and hot) so they'll be busy. Monkey gets home tomorrow so the Bat will want to hear all about her trip and spend time with her (because that was a long time to spend away from his kid). So I'll just wing it and entertain myself by reading The Fault in our Stars, which has already made me cry half a dozen times, and watching Midsomer Murders on Netflix. I want to clean Monkey's bathtub/shower because I've done the rest of it but that's going to take some courage as that bathtub is fucking gross and still has all sorts of dog hair in it from the last time said dogs were bathed there (weeks ago).

I hate when I'm being annoyed and butthurt. I mean, I don't like feeling that way but it is especially annoying when I'm choosing to feel that way. But I've had a not so great work week, the Bat was an asshole to me intentionally today (not in a very serious way but just enough to make me think "really? You had to ruin that for me?"), and he isn't exactly winning a ton of points lately by breaking plans we made. I think I'd like some nice white wine, a hot bath, and my book (or maybe one that won't find me weeping in the tub). Maybe that would help snap me out of it because in the grand scheme of things, everything is fine (outside work) and I'm just choosing to be cranky and annoyed and hurt. I also forgot to bring something with me for lunch so all I've had is a gross Nutri Grain Fruit & Oat Harvest Blueberry Bliss bar and I get pretty fucking bitchy when I'm hungry. I am also frequently too lazy to do anything about it so just wait until I get home to shove something down my gullet.

It's been a shitty day. Hopefully it will be a better evening. And at least I have an afternoon radio show that makes me laugh for my homeward bound commute. Fingers crossed that I can wedge myself out of these cranky pants and enjoy my evening instead of sulking like a goddamn teenager.

UPDATE: I ended up going to the happy hour for my bosses former boss who has left the company. I planned to get there by 3:30 and leave by 4:00 but stayed till 4:30. Glad I did. I had fun and I wasn't a dick who said "no, can't make it, shitty commute."

Still not pleased on the home front, but I also haven't eaten.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Weekend Report

Two days ago I went into the backyard to dump Johan's cage (it was cleaning day). The grass is about up to my knees at the moment because it hasn't been mowed since Memorial Day weekend. As I was walking through, I glimpsed something small, fury, and quite obviously dead. Somehow I managed to not completely lose my shit. Instead, I finished what I had to do, hurried into the house, and said to the Bat "there is something dead in your backyard."

He was unconcerned. Granted, he wasn't feeling well and had been napping, but still. If I tell you there is something dead in the back yard your response shouldn't be "good, I hope it's a cat"* but, rather, "I'm so sorry! Are you OK? Did you accidentally touch it? Let me go take care of it right away. No, let me fix you a drink and fetch your beloved stuffed cow and then I'll go take care of it. You stay right here ok, sugar plum?" But not our Bat. He did eventually go check it out and informed me that it was a rat. That made it worse and I became obsessed and made him tell me if it was a particularly ugly rat. He thought I meant was it decomposing or eaten but I just meant, was it an ugly rat. It wasn't. That made it somewhat better.

But I still can't go back there ever again because either 1: the backyard has turned into rat kingdom or 2: the backyard is riddled with big rat corpses.

Fortunately, that was the only trauma suffered this weekend. Not a lot got done but it was still nice. The Bat and I watched a lot of movies, I did a lot of laundry and did some cleaning. There was a lot of lunch meat involved. OK, that sounds really awful. I just mean that the Bat and I have taken to getting lunch meat and cheese from the deli section and making awesome sandwiches. He makes true Dagwood's but that's too much for me so I make mini Dagwood's. So mostly, it was just a chill weekend. We didn't go anywhere other than the occasional (and separate) trips to the store and his trip to his folks' house to talk with his dad about work stuff. The Bat does owe me one nice thing though, because he didn't want to go to Target with me but then asked me to pick things up for him. I did, because I was nice. Now he owes me. I want a massage but, unfortunately, the Bat hurt his back yet again, whilst at his parents' house. Woe is me.

Work has picked up a bit but I'm still a little nervous about this whole reorg business. Two of our remote people are flying in tomorrow and my friend KC and the Sunshine Band suggested it was so that we would all be together for part two of the reorg news. Maybe I'll find out where I'm going, if I'm going somewhere, and who I'll be reporting to. My main concern is that I still have a job, which KC assured me was the case. I always get freaked out about unemployment for some reason. But let's not think of that and end on a happier note.

I watched so much Pretty Little Liars that I've finally started wearing jewelry again and putting more effort into my appearance on a daily basis. I have no idea why and simply blame that show because I marveled at how accessorized the characters are. It feels good and it was about damned time that I brush off my long neglected pretty things. I even bought some cheap stuff from Walmart yesterday because cheap bangles and necklaces are fun and at $5 a pop, totally worth it. Now all I need to do is start remembering to put on lipstick or at least lip gloss because even with the other makeup, I look faded without it. But if that is my main concern, I've nothing to complain about.

Here's to a new week. Cheers! 

*I've mentioned before that the Bat shoots the feral cats in the neighborhood. He does, with an air rifle. He doesn't actually kill them but he'd like to since the city won't do anything about them unless you catch them. At least one of them just had a litter of kittens so there are a ton of them running around. I don't know when this happened, but sometime in the last few years, four of these cats pinned Bailey to the fence and tore up her face. I think that is when the Bat started shooting them, because not only did they hurt his dog, he was also worried about what might happen to Monkey should she be sunbathing out back.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Sandwich Post - Annoyances, Randomness, and Giggles

Trivial Things I Don't Care About
  1. Cutesy/quirky news stories. If I see a headline such as "Monks brew beer to keep abby open", I immediately roll my eyes and just think "nope."  I don't know why, but these fluffy pieces that are meant to give us a break from the horror stories just don't do a thing for me. 
  2. The mommy wars. I'm impressed that there is still controversy between working mothers and stay at home mothers but who gives a shit? Mind your own business bitches and quit worrying about what the other team does/feels.
  3. Soccer. Suddenly Americans give a shit because the World Cup happened/is happening? No, I get it, some really do love the sport and follow it every year but I'm tired of seeing it playing in bars because NO1CURR really. It's like being in Ohio when the Winter Olympics come on and suddenly people are talking about curling. Why aren't you talking about curling every year if you love it so much? 
  4. Summer Blockbuster Movies. I've never cared. I like movies and watch my fair share but I don't cream my pants over the release of the latest super hero movie. Also, there are far too many sequels of certain franchises (I'm eyeballing you Fast and the Furious). 
  5. Summer. I like that the days are longer but I never understand why adults who are not teachers get excited about the summer. It's hot and gross and we still have to keep going to work. As a matter of fact, if you are a home owner/dweller, you have more work because you have to attend to your yard(s). 
Little Orphan Simply
One of the things that is very different between me and the Bat is family. He is very family oriented and takes his role as eldest brother very seriously. Being a father is also a huge part of his identity. I think it is lovely and I'm glad that he is close to his family and cares for them and likes engaging with them etc. What he doesn't seem to understand is that it is perfectly OK that I'm not from a close knit clan and that I'm fine with it. My brothers and I like each other well enough and wish one another the best but we don't keep in touch and we don't see each other. And I'm 100% cool with that. I have to assume they are as well because they don't reach out any more than I do. The Bat and I were talking about this last night and I swear I could feel him either judging me, feeling bad for me, or just not believing me when I said I was fine with it. It was funny because I spent a great deal of my life not realizing that my circumstances were the weird ones, not those of my friends. "You have two parents who are divorced and you have a relationship with both of them?" "Your divorced mother/father is dating?!" "You and your brother are friends now? What the fuck?" So yeah, when I was younger I acted and thought based on my situation and what I knew and it took me awhile to realize that I was the odd one with regards to the people I knew.

I'm not an anomaly though. There are plenty of people who have families they aren't close to and who make families out of those who do not share blood. There are people like me who understand that you do not need to have come out of the same vagina in order to be considered family. I keep in regular contact with girlfriends and have done so for years. I have people I connect with and who I would like to visit and who I consider my family. They just happen to not be related to me. I don't understand what is sad about not having a close knit clan or not rushing to visit family when they are back in the states. The Bat said he would jump at the chance to go to Arizona in my place in order to visit with his nieces if he had a brother who lived over seas. I just looked at him and said "those kids are never going to know me so why bother?" It's not like they are going to remember that summer when they were five and two when Fraenka Simply came out to visit. And if my brother cared enough about having visits with me, he would have flown out to see me a couple of times all those years we lived in the same country. He has his own life to live and so do I. We are both fine with the occasional asinine Facebook post.

So I told the Bat that I would try not to talk about anyone in my family other than my mom and he should just try to pretend that she's the only family I have. I think that will make it easier for both of us.

Trivial Things that Make Me Giggle
  1. The way the view out of my office window makes it seem like I am high up on a hill or mountain. I'm not. I'm on the first floor but my chair and desk are so low that the bushes and crepe myrtle trees give the appearance of being lower than me. 
  2. The way my coworker fucks with the newest member of the team. Well, fucked with I should say. When he first started, my coworker El Salvador would tell him things like "as the newest member of the team, you have to bring us breakfast on Fridays." She would really push it too. His first Friday, the new guy brought us bagels and we all had to back pedal and apologize and tell him she was just messing with him. He knew it, he was just being nice. 
  3. The way Bubbles runs. I don't know if it was Trucker or his brother but one of them commented that she runs funny. I defended her but I already knew that. I can't even explain it but she does run funny. I also get tickled every time she slides by accident. 
  4. The way the Bat laughs when he finds something really, really funny. Not just your run of the mill funny laugh, but laugh at something hysterical. It is rare and it sounds funny and it tickles me greatly

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Dulldrums but Trusting in the Universe

Remember how I applied for a job within my company and interviewed with two people? Welp, that job is presently on hold because one of the higher ups is deciding whether or not it is needed. In order to post a new job in this company, you have to get approval from the very, very top, going through all chains of command. So which super important muckity muck decided that this job might not be necessary after having it posted on our public website and having two candidates - one internal, one external - interview for it? I don't know, but it evidently has to do with a company reorganization that directly affects me and my colleagues. The announcement email went out yesterday and was followed up by a mandatory team meeting led by my current boss. After explaining what the email meant and lamenting the loss of one of our team leaders who will be leaving later this month, she essentially said that it has not yet been decided how the report structure will work out; meaning, she doesn't know who my colleagues and I will report to yet. That is incredibly frustrating because there are a few terrifying options out there. But I suppose I need to just focus on my work, keep my head down, and trust the universe to take care of things. Surprisingly, that seems to work out.

Monkey is still in Missouri and I'm not sure when she is coming back, this weekend or the next. As weird as it is to live in the house when she and the Bat are both gone, it's actually weirder when she si gone for an extended period of time because her absence is hugely felt. I think that is partly due to the fact that she is a teenager, full of energy, and in and out with her friends. When she gets back, she'll be here for maybe a week before she and her dad fly to California. I know the Bat is staying just a week but I don't know if she will stay on longer, as she has done in MO. All I know is that I miss her and I wish we could get the air fixed because I know her room - which has been closed up this entire time - is hot and stuffy.

On Tuesday I went with Spectero for girls' night or, as the Bat calls it, my girl date. We met up at the bowling alley across the street from where I live and had a good time. Spectero spent a good hour trying to remember the name of a third cafeteria style restaurant that used to be in Garland, going so far as to drag an innocent bystander into it. Said innocent bystander ended up being our friend as she fit into our groove. So I gave her my number and told her to hit us up next time she's in town (evidently she isn't this way often but still, why not?)

No date night this week and I'd hoped to make up for it tonight but the show I thought premiered tonight (Extant, woman goes to space alone and comes back pregnant) actually premiered yesterday. So now I'll have to see if the Bat is up to having date night at home with sandwiches and something to watch. Or we could talk to one another I guess. Every so often I tell him we are doing it wrong when we are hanging out outside interacting with one another and there are people - usually the Monkey and her friends - all inside on their phones. But a chill night is what I'm looking for, especially as I have a lot of chores I need to attend to that I totally blew off during my very long weekend. We shall see. It also includes getting the Bat on board with this semi formed date night plan.

Wish me luck. I know this sounds a bit dull and down but I'm in a perfectly fine mood and I really am trusting the universe to take care of things if only because they are out of my control. Now back to it.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Lonely Weekend of Laziness

This weekend was a strange one. The Bat and Monkey left for Missouri on Thursday evening so I had a lot of time to myself. I did have some idea as to what to do with that time - volunteer at the library, pull down a suitcase or two to put my winter things in, move things around in my room - but shit like that doesn't always work out.
  • I have not been back to the library in ages because I found a dead "giant cockroach" and I just can't get past the horror of it. I feel like a dick though, so I'll probably force myself to go on Thursday. Now that I wrote that, I kind of feel like I have to do it.
  • Suitcases are in the attic and ... excuses.
  • I want to move furniture around but sitting around watching television and drinking beer got in the way
So on Thursday and Friday evenings, I pretty much just watched Pretty Little Liars and vegged out. I somehow managed to hurt my back (probably from lying in a weird position as I watched PLL on my iPad) so on Friday evening I took two of the Bat's muscle relaxers. Next thing I knew, it was 1PM on Saturday. Yeah, not taking those fuckers again. I wasted half a day with sleep so I dragged my lazy ass out of bed to do some cleaning before falling back into my PLL coma. A few notes on that program:
  • Trust no one with your secrets
  • Everyone is a liar
  • If you are alone, sleep with every door locked and the dogs inside if you can
Seriously, I don't think I'll take anyone at their word for a really long time after watching this show. And it really did creep me out to the extent that I locked every door to the Bat Cave, something that hasn't been done in so long some of the doors were difficult to lock. I even let the dogs into the (locked) bedroom but had to let them out again because I couldn't take the scratching.

Yes, scratching. These fleas are relentless and so Sunday was spent dropping over sixty bones on flea treatments, throwing this powder shit on the floors, spreading granules in the backyard, soaking said granules, trying desperately to sweep and vacuum the powder (that shit is insidious, like glitter, and it's still everywhere), and then, once it was late enough, hauling Johan and Bubbles into the greenhouse so I could flea bomb the hell out of the place. I don't know if it worked but Bubbles has been venturing out of the kitchen more and more. I think that must have been the only room without fleas because she was hanging out in there all the time. But last night she came out into the dining room and then the living room and went back and forth to my room a few times. Fingers crossed. The Bat is going to try something on the dogs today and maybe we'll try it on Bubbles. Either way, I have a veterinarian appointment for her on Monday and I bet they are going to yell at me. My only defense is that I've only had her for a year and I've never taken care of a cat before. Actually, I haven't even had her for a year so there!

The Bat returned yesterday, making the nine hour drive on his own (leaving Monkey to continue hanging out with relatives she hasn't seen in ages). It's weird but I didn't give myself much time to miss him for most of the weekend, although I did have moments. I missed him the most yesterday, when I knew I was going to see him. He was worn out and his legs were jelly from driving and at first, I didn't recognize him. I don't know if it was because I hadn't seen him in roughly four days or what but he looked different at first. I think he looked taller. But no matter, eventually I recognized him more and I went out to get him some food since he was starving, there was nothing in the house, and he was NOT going to get into a car again. The night was relaxed and quiet because we are old people. He said the trip was good and showed me some pictures, we watched television (The Wolf and Defiance because my man likes his SciFi channel) and went to bed at ten. One moment of hilarity was when - and this is TMI so you've been warned to skip to the end ...... go on, get.................

we went to bed and had sex. I was on top and when I finished, the Bat literally said "good job."   If he'd had more energy, I'm sure he would have high fived me, fist bumped me, or something. I was a bit worn out so I didn't say anything but this morning it hit me and I found it hilarious.

And now here we are on Tuesday. It's been a fine week thus far and, seeing as it is a short one, I'm pretty chill and calm regarding the rest of it. I did have a meeting this morning that was super technical and I so didn't need to be there, but whatever, it happens. And I do have a meeting at 2 that I'm dreading but hey, I leave at 4 and I'm going to the bar with my friend Spectero so I'm sure I can power through the pain. That and I had an excellent sandwich for lunch and still have half of it left to reward myself with after my next meeting.

So yeah, feeling pretty good these days, even if I was a slothful sofa slug all weekend. I guess that's what I needed. Unfortunately, that also means that there is a film of dust all over everything and there is still flea powder here and there so there is cleaning to be done. But I have a very long weekend ahead of me and - hopefully - the Bat to help.