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brightlotusmoonI woke up this morning singing Josh Gracin's "Stay With Me" to myself, softly. It is a beautiful song, and when turned inward on the self, it is cathartic.
There's a fog in me. I am tired. I am in a great amount of pain, but that will be remedied with Advil and DLPA and Vitamin C. I can only push myself so far. There are so many days when I beg the gods to take away the cerebral palsy and the scars on my ankles and the chronic inflammation and muscle spasms and fatigue. But then I remember who I am and I remember that I am because of all this, and so I deal with it.
Adam called last night from his hotel in Atlanta, ripping drunk off his ass, but safe at a bar two floors from his room, at a party being thrown by the client. I was glad he had fun and was safe and happy. But to be totally honest, and with apologizes, I do not really enjoy being with or talking to extremely drunk people, including myself, unless they are in a very safe and comfortable place where they won't go anywhere or hurt themselves, like near a bed or couch. I like talking to them if they are not violently trashed and can hold an intelligent conversation. I will be happy for their pleasure. But if they are at a bar or in public or if they are being stupid, I turn cold and unsympathetic. If they moan that their liver hurts, tough shit. They drank a lot. It is just a personal pet peeve. It is why I rarely ever drink to the point of real inebriation. I don't like the way I feel when I am drunk. I love my liver too much. If I do become drunk, I try to stay by myself and I don't really want to socialize. My head spins too much. I just want it to be over. I might regret ever agreeing to socially drink in the first place. But I make the choice and live with it, and then choose to avoid it later.
Enough about me bitching.
I have been obsessively cleaning the kitchen all week because of the dog. He has refused to go out in the morning for anyone since Adam has been away. So when I come home, there will often be messes. I must clean up the kitchen floor and scrub and mop like mad. Thank god for Clorox Ready Mop and lemon Lysol. Yesterday morning and this morning, I managed to trick Ralph into getting up. I dangled his beloved leash in front of him, clipped it to his collar, and when we walked out beyond the front gate, I let him back through the gate, took off the leash, and went back inside and left him out, just so he'd be motivated to shit and piss already. I am not a dog person. But I love my husband and he loves his dog.
I bought a roll of paper towels, a lemon Lysol cleaner spray, and scrubbing sponges. I have decided to declare war on the kitchen floor. First, I will use the Clorox Ready Mop. Then, once it is completely dry, I will spray the whole floor with the Lysol and use the Ready Mop without its attached cleaner fluid, just the absorbant pad, and clean the floor again. Then I will spray more Lysol on any spots, and get a sponge and scrub the spots -- regardless of whether or not the dog crapped or the cats vomited. I have realized that I can't walk barefoot or sock-footed in my home without picking up grime and dirt. Hence, insane cleaning spree. I may be able to use white vinegar and water, except then the house will smell like vinegar.
I'd like to feel better about myself. I think I am PMSing but it is subtle. I wish I wasn't broke, either, but that will be remedied in a couple of weeks. I just need to be careful. I have what I need so far.
There's a fog in me. I am tired. I am in a great amount of pain, but that will be remedied with Advil and DLPA and Vitamin C. I can only push myself so far. There are so many days when I beg the gods to take away the cerebral palsy and the scars on my ankles and the chronic inflammation and muscle spasms and fatigue. But then I remember who I am and I remember that I am because of all this, and so I deal with it.
Adam called last night from his hotel in Atlanta, ripping drunk off his ass, but safe at a bar two floors from his room, at a party being thrown by the client. I was glad he had fun and was safe and happy. But to be totally honest, and with apologizes, I do not really enjoy being with or talking to extremely drunk people, including myself, unless they are in a very safe and comfortable place where they won't go anywhere or hurt themselves, like near a bed or couch. I like talking to them if they are not violently trashed and can hold an intelligent conversation. I will be happy for their pleasure. But if they are at a bar or in public or if they are being stupid, I turn cold and unsympathetic. If they moan that their liver hurts, tough shit. They drank a lot. It is just a personal pet peeve. It is why I rarely ever drink to the point of real inebriation. I don't like the way I feel when I am drunk. I love my liver too much. If I do become drunk, I try to stay by myself and I don't really want to socialize. My head spins too much. I just want it to be over. I might regret ever agreeing to socially drink in the first place. But I make the choice and live with it, and then choose to avoid it later.
Enough about me bitching.
I have been obsessively cleaning the kitchen all week because of the dog. He has refused to go out in the morning for anyone since Adam has been away. So when I come home, there will often be messes. I must clean up the kitchen floor and scrub and mop like mad. Thank god for Clorox Ready Mop and lemon Lysol. Yesterday morning and this morning, I managed to trick Ralph into getting up. I dangled his beloved leash in front of him, clipped it to his collar, and when we walked out beyond the front gate, I let him back through the gate, took off the leash, and went back inside and left him out, just so he'd be motivated to shit and piss already. I am not a dog person. But I love my husband and he loves his dog.
I bought a roll of paper towels, a lemon Lysol cleaner spray, and scrubbing sponges. I have decided to declare war on the kitchen floor. First, I will use the Clorox Ready Mop. Then, once it is completely dry, I will spray the whole floor with the Lysol and use the Ready Mop without its attached cleaner fluid, just the absorbant pad, and clean the floor again. Then I will spray more Lysol on any spots, and get a sponge and scrub the spots -- regardless of whether or not the dog crapped or the cats vomited. I have realized that I can't walk barefoot or sock-footed in my home without picking up grime and dirt. Hence, insane cleaning spree. I may be able to use white vinegar and water, except then the house will smell like vinegar.
I'd like to feel better about myself. I think I am PMSing but it is subtle. I wish I wasn't broke, either, but that will be remedied in a couple of weeks. I just need to be careful. I have what I need so far.
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Date: 2006-05-05 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 06:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 06:02 pm (UTC)