I lost the Jake battle Monday. I did his morning rounds, then went to my chiropractor appointment and to the museum for some more meds. When I came home I mixed up his fluids and got everything ready, and when I picked him up he was gone.
I was hoping that maybe, just once, I could win.
So I buried him and cleaned up all the medical stuff and sat down at the laptop to tell Ebaida because she's been worried about Jake (and me) and I have a message from her of "my brother died and I'm on my way there." And that's all I know. I know that her brother and family live a few hours away, but she hadn't said anything about him being sick. I haven't heard from her for two days now. I know that she's busy, but she's emotionally delicate and I'm really worried about her. And there's not a damned thing I can do to help her. Later, when she's able to talk, but for the moment I'm helpless, and I hate that.
That had repercussions Tuesday at work. The staff were busy (there was an inspection of some sort). There were two other volunteers - one is fairly new - learning well but still gets confused - and the other is a bit on the ditzy side. So when it came to preparing the diets, I got the most complication station - the meats.
Thing is, because of losing Jake after a 5 day battle (and still feeling so frustrated because I'd worked my butt off securing the chicken yard and everyone had been safe for a month, so this attack caught me just when I was starting to relax) and being terribly worried about Ebaida - let's just say I had a hangover. And I had to be up to my wrists in squishy raw meat and cut up fish.
Tonight I'm doing something that I never do: throwing away money. I'm not stingy, but I am pretty darned frugal, and if I buy something, I get my money's worth out of it. There's a concert tonight - Manheim Steamroller. I've been a big fan for over 20 years - I own several of their CDs. I bought my ticket a couple of weeks ago. And I'm not going. It's only November, but I'm already tired of driving in the dark. I don't want to go out, enjoy myself, and then come home to see if I have to deal with anything that went wrong (the last remaining chicken has been moved to the back deck, but raccoons have ripped into there before in years past).
And I don't want to bloody go by myself. I've been really good about going out this year - four circuses, a comic con, the highland games, the Harry Potter symphony. I know that someone should not just sit home alone, but "go out and meet people." I've been going out - the meeting people thing doesn't seem to be working. Like when I went to go clean and repair the loom for the living history museum in the next town over - none of the weaver's guild I invited to join me did, and the people there said "thank you" and then went away to let me work. I agreed to demo at the Highland games because there were supposed to be other people doing fiber arts - and they didn't show up and I did it solo. I took the woodworking class not only to brush up on my tool skills, but to maybe meet other makers. Except the other people who signed up didn't show up.
So much as I like Steamroller, tonight somehow I didn't feel like being surrounded by a roomful of people, all who seem to be in couples and groups, and then drive home alone in the dark to my lonely house (and possibly have to deal with something gone wrong). I'd rather just cocoon.
It will be OK. Tomorrow I'll go to work in the morning and then Christy and Rik have invited me to Thanksgiving dinner (just a small group, informal on the picnic tables) so I'll get up in a minute to cook sweet potatoes and make a charred Mexican street corn salad). Adrianne just checked today to see if I'm free for lunch Friday. So I'm not really huddling alone.
I'll even have a show-and-tell. I used to knit almost obsessively. When my parents were doing the in-and-out of the hospital thing I kept the knitting bag hanging on a hook where I could grab it. I knit while Bob was driving; I knit in the car. I knit a lot when he was in the hospital, on 3 or 4 projects, but I couldn't focus enough to finish and after I came home I eventually unraveled them. And every time I thought about knitting, I would remember sitting in that hospital room. Finally, last January I cast on some luxury handspun yarn. Bit by bit over the last year I worked on it (part of the problem was that I have plenty of knitting needles, but should have bought some new ones because they were almost the same color as the yarn and I couldn't bloody see the fine stitches). But miracles happen. I did finish it, and now it's facing the torture that all lace must, being washed and then stretched out and pinned to open up the pattern. Surprisingly, it seems to have turned out well.
Must get to the sweet potatoes.
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