Michelle's Place

A funny thing happened the other night that made me think - no, the funny thing wasn't that I thought, thank you all very much.  I was talking to a friend & commented on things I hadn't done (like the vacuuming, yukko), then explained that it's just because I'm lazy.  He did a double take (was kinda cool, almost a movie-type double take) & said said I'm not (though I insisted).  He said he had never thought of me like that as when we meet for lunch we walk up to the mall (admittedly only 15 mins tops) & he knows other people that will refuse to even do that, as well as when we go out & about I wander around, too.  It made me feel better & got me to thinking...

Isn't it interesting the way we define ourselves, which can often become barriers or boundaries, and the way others see us?  It made me stop and think about how I see myself & how that can define me - because I think I'm lazy, when I put off stuff I have an excuse, I beat myself up about it, I feel bad so I don't want to do stuff that makes me feel worse (like vacuuming) & so the cycle continues.  Whereas if I stop calling myself lazy, I might actually think about doing what I need to do, or at the very least stop feeling bad about it!  Reverse is, maybe I can say good things about myself to motivate myself...  But that might be a bit harder!

Anyway, there's my deep and meaningful thoughts for the day.  My God, I'm profound.

P.S.  Vacuuming still not done but washing and dishes are.  Go me!

It was a week today since Cello died, since I made the decision.  I can't believe it's only been a week, it feels like yesterday & it feels like forever.  I'm in a better place now than last week at least.  I still can't believe she's gone, I still feel like she's in the next room.  All that will help is time.

Yep, I've seen better days.  On the spur of a moment, I went to Robe for the weekend.  It's a lovely place about 3 1/2 hours from Adelaide along the Coorong.  I stopped at Salt Creek for fish & chips (oh my God, the fish was awesome) & casually swanned into Robe about 2ish.  After checking in, I wandered the main street & stopped at the bakery, where I got a phone call from Chris & Kevin - turns out we were able to catch up for a coffee which was lovely.  She didn;t want to say yes earlier just ion case anything went wrong & knew it would be a nice surprise.  Little things like that make me smile.

I couldn't get a table at the pub for tea (who woulda thunk you'd need to book a table for 1?!) so I wandered along the street more, checking out menus as I wandered, and ended up at a little pizzeria place for a vego pizza, noice.  After that, ambled back to the holiday house & watched a dvd then off to bed. 

Check out was by 10 so decided to drive to Kingston SE to check out the breakfasts there - I had a hankering for a huge full breakfast.  Couldn't find what I wanted so kept on driving & ended up stopping at Policeman's Point (just before Meningie - I know it's small but WIkipedia doesn't list it, whereis can't find it & Google only has a caravan park and real estate lsiting, I was hoping to tell you population or something useful).  Anyway, the lovely lady there told me the big breakfast had egg, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, tomato, oh, and toast - you beauty, the lot no tomato thanks.  Funnily enough, didn't get through it but was mighty full afterwards & it kept me going till I got home.

It was good to get away & drive for hours, singing along to The Whitlams & Boom Crash Opera (hence the blog title).  It was also good to be away from here after last week's horror weekend.  I still cry at night & want my little girl back, though, but I suppose better days will come around soon.

Cello stopped eating full stop, vomited the antibiotics & started staggering around when trying to walk or get up.  She had that glassy eyed "why am I hurting" look in her eye the whole time.  About 4:30am she climbed onto the bed, walked over my legs & came up to my face & curled up with me for a couple of hours.  Rather than a real purr, she had an awful noise going on & though was happy to be with me, it was more like her way of saying goodbye.  Later in the morning I bundled her carefully in a towel & put her in the washing basket & took her to the vet.  She didn't move in the basket the whole time, didn't even whinge about it once.  I had tears rolling down during the drive but brole down & howled when I walked in the door of the vet.  The vet nurse was very good about it, found me a place to sit with her & tissues.  The vet told me it would be quick but I didn't realise how quick - within about a minute of the needle she was gone.  Cue more howling.  And more in the car.  And more at home.

So here I am, though it still seems like she's in the other room.  Everyone's been lovely but there's nothing anyone can say or do to make the pain go away.  I'm glad she's not suffering but I miss her.

My beautiful evil ginger cat is sick.  She's 15 years old & has been diagnosed with hepatitis & gall bladder problems & is on a truckload of antibiotics.  It's breaking my heart, not just because she won't let me pat her or talk to her (because I'm the cow who's feeding her awful antibiotics & took her to the vet) but because I can see that awful look in her eye, the one that says i just don't feel like me anymore and she's hardly eating.

It's starting to sink in that this might be it, she might not recover.  I tried not hearing it when the vet said to see how she went this weekend but her age is a factor in recovery but watching her today has made it real.

I'm not ready to let go, though I won't have a choice in it.  She's been with me for nearly half my life.  She moved in after the ex from hell moved out & has run my life ever since.  She's been hit by cars twice, been stuck in the neighbours roof for 4 days, been diabetic & now this.  Cello's the one that is always here, always talking to me (even when I want her to shut up so I can sleep), curled up next to me (actually, usually on me, we've had an ongoing discussion about next to me rather than on me), peeing on my fave Carlton top, licking my tears when I cry, stomping across my ribs to get to the other side of the bed...  She's what makes my house a home.

As much as I've taken care of her, she's taken care of me and I don't want it to end.  Cross your fingers for us.