It makes her so happy…

Yes, we should probably change the name of the blog from “Caitymakes” to “Caity obsesses about Emmalumpdogg” but whatever.

The weather has been awful. Wet, windy, cold, miserable. Even though Mr Beloved has got a routine for washing Emmalumpdogg’s paws down to a fine art, it’s still a pain when it has to happen four or more times a day. The house smells of mud and wet towels.

imageThis was the view from Mr Beloved’s phone camera at 6:10 this morning. Driving rain and wind, so much so that even sturdy Miss Emmalumpdogg wanted to cut the walk short.

These photos are from the other day, before the rain set in.

image

Emmalumpdogg got a new toy. I’d been looking at it for a while, but it was half price when we went to buy her food, so… It’s called a Jolly Ball, and it smells of blueberries! (Blueberries are one of Emzie’s favourite things.) She sings to it, but I can’t work out how to load the video ☹️ so you can hear that. If you press on the media player link you should hear her singing to the ball but be warned, Dorian Grey the Cockatiel is very loud in the recording!

Anyway, it’s a solid ball, but she’s already scratched it up and worked out how to carry it around, she’s a very toothy beastie.

(in fact as I was writing this we had an under-the-bed battle, where Em brought in a piece of forbidden stinky wood to chew, and had to be forced to give it up. But not before she bit Daddy’s foot. Oops. All is forgiven now, but her love of the wild tobacco tree offcuts is about to end for good… The rotten shrub is no more.)

In better news, the next door house has sold, although whether the new owners are renovating for themselves (oh pleeeeeease…) or for tenants (…) we don’t yet know. But Emmalumpdogg’s friend was back, and we now know that she is 11 months old, and they had a lovely time racing up and down the fence again in the rain for hours yesterday…photo is from a fortnight ago when it was nice and dry. It’s not that Emzie can’t socialise with other dogs, just that she needs to be unstressed about it. Going to the vet with her is still a problem, but having her play with one other dog seems to be fine.image

So that’s about it this week… The usual round of doctors visits coming up, bleh. I’m sick of being sick.

Allie and Connie

I like a chin scratch already!
I like a chin scratch already!
My crest feathers are nearly here!
My crest feathers are nearly here!
My ear is getting better, really Mum... still the Cone of Shame... Really?
My ear is getting better, really Mum… still the Cone of Shame… Really?

She’s a very smart poodle.  I think she wanted me to look up ‘otalgia’ in the dictionary for her – despite the ear drops from Jules the Vet, poor Connie is still shaking her head about in the night.  The swelling has settled down a lot, though.

Oh dear…

Well, bugger.

I have spent most of today in tears.

Mr B has spent most of today being able to write (not an everyday occurrence, which is why it’s worthy of mention – he is writing through the pain, and good on him. I hope he won’t pay for it too much later.)

I’d had a bad pain night anyway, waking up at least 4 times to go to the loo, get a drink of water, generally stretch, and once take another painkiller to get me through the night. My teary day started when the neighbours decided to share their stereo DOOMF DOOMF DOOMF at about 11 am this morning.  I called the police line number to report the excessive noise and request police attendance – there’s not a lot else you can do when your walls are rattling.  Again.

Except – and this is where I find it so frustrating – after nearly an hour of the noise, it stopped, and we had to call the police back and cancel the job.  I have mentioned how embarrassing I find this before – I don’t want to feel like we’re wasting police resources, but at the same time, we have no other way of dealing with this persistently loud noise.   The police line operators are generally understanding, especially when you’re reporting intermittent stereo noise, but I feel horrible having to phone up repeatedly. Up-down-up- down-up-down, across that hacksaw blade.

So… I retired downstairs to try and do some writing for uni, but it’s just not coming today. I can’t concentrate on the words in my textbook, let alone try and write some new parts for my story. Time to do the next best thing – if I can’t do uni work, then it must be time to tackle (dah dah DUMMMMM….) HOUSEWORK.

The dog needs a b-a-t-h (we have to spell out the word, if you say it she will run to her crate and refuse to come out) but my shoulders are already sore from too much computer time, so I’ll put that one off until tomorrow.  I decide instead to vacuum the kitchen and bathroom floor and give them a much needed, if quick and somewhat dodgy wash.  The dog helps by being mock terrified of the vacuum cleaner. We go through this every single time the vacuum cleaner is brought out, with much greater degrees of pathetic-ness if Daddy is around to witness just how much the poor wee puppy is frightened by evil Mr Dyson’s terrible machine.

Oh noes it’s the PUPPY FRIGHTENER!

Next the dog walks over the floor as I’m washing it, ensuring that no part is without her signature paw prints, drying into a tasteful pattern crisscrossing the kitchen and bathroom.

That done, back aching in a different way, I head back downstairs in time to catch my phone ringing. It is the lovely receptionist from the Very Helpful Psychiatrist’s office, asking if it would be okay if we cancel my appointment with the Mental Health Nurse for tomorrow afternoon and re-schedule.  I try not to burst into tears as I explain that no, it would not be okay, because I’m really not having a very good time right now and I need to come in and see somebody.  I can hear her desperately thinking ‘uh oh’ as she does her best to find a slot for me to see someone, before asking me to come and see the Very Helpful Psychiatrist first thing tomorrow morning.  I gratefully accept, feeling guilty that I’ve made more work for everybody, and starting to cry again as I hang up.

Things are not okay. I hate being teary like this, it’s not right. I haven’t felt right for days now. It has to be addressed before it gets worse. Note to self – probably don’t put mascara on tomorrow morning.

Sunday again

So it’s Sunday again, I might as well find some things to post about.  Here we go:

Things that I am enjoying now: Mary Beard’ s TV series ‘Meet the Romans’ – the last one of this 3 part series is on SBS TV tonight, and she makes me wish that I had time to do a classics degree. Which I don’t. And without the wherewithal to travel to Britain and Italy, it’s not really worth it, but she makes it seem so brilliant.

Mr B has been enjoying watching it too. He was actually subjected to some Latin in his education, so sometimes he gets to play along as Mary translates.

I am enjoying being on the lower dose of Saphrís again because my tongue doesn’t feel quite so burnt.  I do worry a bit about going to the next lower dose because I am scared of dipping into depression again, especially at the moment while this hassle with the neighbours is going on. It’s very easy to get sick and isolated again and I don’t want that.

I’m enjoying the feeling of having my assignment for CWR1000 finished and handed in. It was 99% written but it took me until Thursday afternoon (it was due Friday midnight) to find the right ending but when I did, the whole thing fell into place. Those last three sentences made it work.   At least I think they did –we’ll see what the lecturer thinks.  Poor man has 110 students, each handing in one of these 2000 word stories to mark. I do not envy him his job.  Meanwhile, our next assignment is to edit these pieces, and we have been given some instructions on how to do so. We have one more week of lectures then a two week break, during which I need to find a new story to write so I don’t go mad with nothing to do. (There is always, always the front room, which I am determined to get to. Soon.  My study-buddy and I have agreed to meet during the break to work on our stories so we keep each other going, and I think this will be a Good Thing.)

I am enjoying seeing Mr B writing his story, too.  He says he is encouraged by my uni work (and I hope as I learn how this editing process works I will be able to pass on some knowledge to him).  I really admire his determination to get his book written, he also struggles every day with back pain and neurological pain from his accident, so his writing time is limited, but he is determined to at least get some words down most days.  As my Dad says, any day you’re vertical and ventilated is a win. Some days that’s about all we manage, and we have to accept that.  I have to remind myself of that.

I am enjoying re-reading the Harry Potter books.  I’ve been reading other things in between, so this is a slow project, but I’m halfway through book three (Prisoner of Azkaban) and the storytelling is wonderful.  Will I bother with the new ‘for grown ups’ JK Rowling book? Probably not, unless and until I see it remaindered for a very cheap price or on the new releases shelf at the library.  But the Harry Potter stories are just the thing for me to be reading to get to sleep at night right now – I don’t have to think too much, and I still get to admire how cleverly she’s plotted and how simply she’s used language.

I’ve been reading more Ray Bradbury stories too, but they’re not as good for getting to sleep – short stories never work as well for getting to sleep because they STOP, dammit! And also because Ray Bradbury is possibly the writer I admire most, so I find myself really concentrating when I’m reading his stuff. Not that I don’t enjoy the stories, I do, but I read them differently now.  Unless they’re ones I know really well.

The Formula 1 race is at Monza tonight.  Not quite as fun a circuit as Spa, but still usually worth watching. I’m a bit worn out so we’ll see how I go, I might not last race distance.

Things I am not enjoying right now: the ongoing harassment from the next door neighbours.  We’ve had to call the police numerous times. Sometimes we then have to call the police back to cancel the complaint, because they can only act if the noise is still happening when they arrive.  (I find this embarrassing and upsetting, both the initial call and then the call to cancel.)  The noise from next door resonates from their sub-woofer stereo through both wooden houses, since they are built so very close together, and you would think after the police showing up so many times the neighbours would get a clue that it’s an issue but no, they don’t. Living with the DOOMF DOOMF DOOMF is like being dragged back and forth over a hacksaw blade (as Mr B put it last night. I cannot think of a more eloquent phrase to describe it.)  I just want a quiet life, is that too much to want? Really?

Last night I let it get to me to the point where it made me sick. My body gave in and did that ever so charming panic attack instant dysentery trick (noooiice) and afterwards all I could do was lie on the bed and cry, even thought that wasn’t what I wanted. I took a lorãzepam because there comes a point where I do not want to sit and observe my feelings, even if that is the right, proper, ACT therapeutic thing that my psychologist would like me to do – I just have had enough of being dragged back and forth and it’s after 11 at night and all I want is some peace.

Today it started up again and I had had enough. I got dressed and took the dog out in the car to the park.  We no longer have an off leash area in Queens Park (which means that entire area of the park was deserted – well done, Toowoomba Council – Sunday arvos used to see happy families frolicking with their pets there, but no more) but Connie was quite happy to trot around the flowers and paths of the plantings which are almost ready for the official start of the Carnivore of Fowls – excuse me, Carnival of Flowers – and then sit on the grass with me.  I probably walked a little bit further than was good for me (I really need to be building up gradually, not doing 30 minutes of walking at once, my hips went clunk CLUNK clunk CLUNK) but provided I can manage the pain tonight it will have been worth it.  Even sitting amongst screeching children was better than being home and hearing the DOOMF DOOMF DOOMF. Plus, I got some Vitamin D, which is a Good Thing, and Connie got some new smells, which probably helps her brain too.  It’s paralysis tick season so she will be gone over with the very fine comb tonight – lots of growls but lots of treats, and yes, we do check between her toes, in her ears and underneath the tick collar as well.  Can’t be too careful.

That’s about it from here this week.  The egg carton foam mattress topper is still making a big difference – I am getting up to 4 hours of unbroken sleep some nights.  I was supposed to go to a fashion show thingy at a shop today but was too down to go. There will be other times when they have discounts, so it won’t matter too much.   We’re supposed to get another cold night here – back down to 6 degrees – brrrrr – but the days are sunny.  Nearly time to get Connie out of her winter coat (and you know as soon as we make the decision to do that and get her clipped, we’ll get a week of really cold nights!)

So this week at uni…

… one of our tasks in the creative writing course is to write an autobiographical piece about where we are now, and post it to the class’s online forum for comment. Other students are then supposed to comment on the author’s ‘voice’.

Even after writing a blog for so long it was a little nerve wracking to do: my (few) readers here all know my backstory. It’s a different thing to  suddenly tell all of that to 100+ fellow students.  And I’m trying hard not to let my judging mind get in the way (thank you, months and years of ACT [Acceptance Commitment Therapy] ) but I do sometimes get intimidated in class by these kids who seems to be so talented and have such amazing ideas… arrrgh!

Anyway.  Here’s what I posted:

**************************

Right at this moment I’m sitting with the laptop balanced on my knees, in my tattered purple armchair in my lounge room in Toowoomba. There are baskets of washing that need sorting and putting away; the ironing board is up with books waiting to go back to the library piled on it next to the iron; and a cup of milky tea is going cold by my elbow.   My husband is typing at his laptop over to my right, having just resigned from an online forum that has taken up way too much of his time; our toy poodle is curled up on the ottoman in front of me, so I can’t even put my feet up to get comfortable.  That last is unfair – she doesn’t do it on purpose, she just likes to be up out of the drafts in our little old weatherboard house. Except I forget – you don’t call them weatherboard up here, you call it VJ or something, don’t you? Betraying my southern roots again.  I’ve been here since the end of 2003 but I still feel like a newcomer some days.

I’m not writing at a desk because we’re still in the process of recovering from the flood.  You don’t have to say which flood in Toowoomba – The Flood, the January 2011 flood.  Our house didn’t get hit, since it’s on stumps, but our shed – it’s nearly as big as our house, our six by nine metre studio, where all our computers and musical equipment and most of our books live –is on a slab, and all the stormwater runoff that rushed down the hill to our yard ran through the shed at a depth of about six inches.  We lost bookcases, clothes, magazines, so much stuff… even though on the day my husband tried so hard to save things.  I ran around taking photos so we could prove to the insurance company that we weren’t flooded, we were affected by stormwater runoff.  Just as well I did.

Anyway, the aftermath involved moving lots of books and paperwork and things that normally had a home in the shed to the house, and the room that was my sewing room and office was lost to   – well – stuff  – until very recently, when Mr Beloved (I don’t like giving out my husband’s name) has felt well enough to tackle the giant project of reversing the move that happened so quickly, and taking things from the house back to the shed.  I’m supposed to be taking part in all this and yet… I’m still procrastinating and generally not doing my bit in the project.

Partly this is because my mental illness has been acting up.  That makes it sound likes it’s something separate from me, doesn’t it?  I tend to treat it that way still.  I live with a chronic physical illness that flares up sometimes too, and I don’t like thinking about that as an integrated part of me, either.  Not a whinge, just facts.  Something you often hear when you’re hospitalised in the psych ward  and have to do non-optional group therapy is ‘I wish I could turn purple when I was sick, so people would know’  –  or sometimes ‘…so that I would know ’, because mental illness can be sneaky and catch you unawares until you’re really, really sick and out of control.  ‘Stupid mental illness’ I think to myself when I am feeling particularly judgmental and unkind, ‘couldn’t you give me some warning?’  But it is what it is.  It’s taken a long time and a lot of therapy to get to that point.

And university is such a lovely excuse when you want to procrastinate, too.  ‘I really should be writing’ I tell myself when I look at the carpet that needs a vacuum.  ‘I’ll just see if anyone’s posted anything new on the forum’ (they haven’t, but I look anyway).  Today I’ve spent time reading a textbook about writing and staring into space thinking about writing but not actually writing – does that count? (sadly, no).

I have no idea what to write for my two thousand word assignment.  The idea I thought about earlier seems silly now.  Should I give in and just write memoir? The only things I can think of there seem too sentimental and perhaps too personal, and again, I don’t want to seem like I’m whingeing.  *sigh* Looks like the fantasy/ sci fi piece might have to be it.  The only thing for it is to apply bum to seat and fingers to keyboard and get going.

Maybe after tea.

*************************

So that was it.  So far only one response from a fellow student, who said my voice felt ‘dark and wistful and shy’.  Hmmm.   At least not whingey.

And I really have no idea what  to write  for the 2000 word assignment.  It’s just not coming easily. The 500 word description piece just came whoosh, I knew what I was doing, but this? Arrrgh!

And we had to call the police on the neighbours AGAIN on Friday night.  What part of ‘No, you do NOT have the right to play your stereo as loudly as you like whenever you like’ do they forget between one police visit and the next?  It’s not like it’s a long time between seeing the nice officers, after all.  *headdesk*.

I had an interesting talk with my psychologist last week, about how we’re all hardwired to reach for three different types of reactions to stress (she calls them the three lifejackets): anxiety, depression, and anger.  ‘The problem I see with your mixed episode bipolar reactions is that you’re constantly shuffling between all three lifejackets, you don’t know which one to put on, and that makes all of the stresses that much worse.’  Yep, I think she’s got something there.  And while I’m doing my best to try and practice ‘Observer’s mind’ and grounding techniques (these are more ACT terms, but essentially boil down to trying to slow things down and observe, compassionately, what is going on with your mind and body) mixed mania just SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUX!

And now I think I will go hang out the washing.  Because life has to go on.  And then I’ll think some more about what on earth I’m going to write for this 2000 word piece…  arrrgh!

 

 

 

First assignment is in!

Well, the first assignment for CWR1000 is DONE. I pushed the ‘SUBMIT’ button on the university’s electronic system at about three thirty this arvo, after a final read through to Mr Beloved, and was satisfied with what I’d written.

It was only a short piece, but designed to test us on punctuation, syntax, and how well we could use 500 words to write a description.  And the piece had to flow without being narrative.  All of that is harder than it sounds: for me, the biggest challenge was making sure I covered all of the senses and gave a feeling of the spirit of the place I was writing about without going too far over the word limit (10% over or under the word count is the accepted norm for university assignments).  Anyway, it’s done.

The next assignment is a 2000 word piece, fiction or creative non-fiction (deep breath) due on September 3.  Eeek! I am really enjoying the course and have found a study buddy around my own age,  so it couldn’t been more different from the stress and misery that last semester’s uni course caused me.  I think it’s partly because I’m more relaxed about the outcomes of this subject (I’m less concerned with marks and more interested in just learning to be a better writer) and partly that I’m doing the subject that I went back to uni to actually study – creative writing.

I still worry that I’m falling behind and not doing enough, especially as I’m adapting to a new med1cation (arrgh).  The Very Helpful Psychiatrist doubled the dose when I saw her on Friday and I am finding the ‘extra pyramidal side effects’ tricky to manage, although the medicati0n itself does seem to be helping.  *sigh*  All I can do is keep trying …

… Especially when the harassment by the neighbours is ongoing, dammit.  Mr Beloved had to explain to the local council that we have every intention of mowing the bloody yard, and that the complaints made by next door are part of her passive aggressive behaviour in retaliation for our having called the police about her excessive stereo noise.  We’ve been advised again to keep a diary: this could end up having to go before a magistrate.  Sheesh.  All we want is a quiet life.

Meanwhile, Toowoomba has been very windy, and the wattle has been blooming.  AHHHHHHHCHHOOOO!  Snifffnufflesniff.  Tissues are being used at a a great rate in this household, and we’re not alone if the bare shelves in the supermarkets are any indication.  Wattle is very pretty but the pollen is very sneeze making.

And now I am turning off the computer because my neck hurts.  I’ve been sitting in an odd position and I need to lie down and rest my head – oh dear.

 

 

 

 

Stressed out, so look at the pretty picture instead.

So far we’ve had to call the police 4 times in the last 24 hours about the next door neighbours.  I had a mini nervous breakdown while on the phone to the police this arvo, and Mr Beloved had to take over.  The issue is the usual one: the neighbours think they have the right to play their  DOOMPH DOOMPH DOOMPH DOOMPH music as loudly as they like whenever they like, and we disagree.

After the visit last night we thought we’d get at least 12 hours reprieve.  But at around noon the noise was unbearable again, and the police attended again: and the rule is that the equipment can be confiscated if there’s another complaint within 12 hours.

So the neighbours called in reinforcements: the hoon car with the even louder stereo.  Which they parked in the street with the sub woofer rattling the paint off all nearby surfaces, while they retreated into their house.  (It was around this point while I was on the phone to the police that I couldn’t speak coherently anymore and collapsed into a shaking heap in the bed, and had to hand over to Mr B.)  Unfortunately they know how to play the game – they shut off the noise at exactly half an hour and left.  And the police can’t act unless the noise is still happening when they arrive.

All we can do is make diary entries when this happens, to establish a pattern of harassment. *sigh*

I DO NOT NEED THIS.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much done today.  My nerves are bloody shot. I didn’t sleep well last night, worrying about what might be coming by way of retaliation. And I’m nervous about what will happen when the neighbours come home tonight – whether they’ll start up again for just long enough to harass us.

Meanwhile: I miss our poor old cat. She didn’t make me read like this. Moet cat did.

And speaking of reading: yes, I am already feeling like I am falling behind at uni. If tomorrow is quiet and I can get some writing down that will help.

 

Bashing my head into my desk. Repeatedly.

It’s Easter. And we all know what that means for those of use lucky enough to live within range of the BOOOM BOOM BOOM THUD THUD THUD of Easterfest EasterPEST – nonstop NOISE from Friday.  From morning til at least 11pm.  This happens every year and the local council refuses to do anything about it. (I will NOT dignify it with a !^@*% link, it’s an allegedly Xtian Rock festival “Drug and alcohol free” – yeah, right). Vote for change this coming local government election, fellow 4350 residents!

Last night Mr Beloved measured the noise from our back yard at 10:15 pm at 74.1dB – to give you an idea, lawnmowers are only allowed to be 75 dB.  Calling the “hotline” is pointless since it is – SURPRISE!  managed by the event.  As Mr Beloved has noted, it’s like calling the fox to report a disturbance in your henhouse.  Calling the council is just as useless: they measure the sounds levels AT THE PARK where the event is being held, not HERE where the noise is a problem!!!

Add to that the noise from Drunketta & Sullenteena’s stereo next door and I literally CANNOT HEAR MYSELF THINK. And Little Djuana Belting ‘s SCREAMING on top of that  – not that they can hear him over the stereo…

…I can’t do uni work, I can’t read, I can’t sleep (since our bedroom is less than 3 metres from Drunketta’s house.) There’s no point calling the police (since they take hours to come, there’s no guarantee the noise will still be happening when they do get here…) so I just have to suck it up.  And take my special p1lls that stop me from having a complete and utter meltdown EVEN THOUGH THAT’S WHAT I REALLY WANT TO DO RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I AM SO FUCKING OVER THIS NOISE.

And before you ask – no, we can’t go away for Easter -we have no money and we have animals to look after, And why should we be driven out of our home by the stupid Easterpesters?  ARRRRRRRRRRRRGH!  There’s more arguments to be made there but I just can’t do it right now – I am just DONE.

It has NOT been a good day.

DOOMMMFF DOOMMMFF DOOMMMFF DOOMMMFF chicka chicka screech screech chicka  DOOMMMFF DOOMMMFF DOOMMMFF DOOMMMFF

That was what we heard non stop from about 5 pm last night until just before midnight when the police finally roused the neighbors (who I can only assume had passed out DRUNK and/or drugged) and issued a noise abatement notice.

We’d tried knocking on their door at 10pm, having been tolerant up until then… when no one answered, we called the cops.  When it was as loud as ever at 11, we called the police station again, so they’d know the job still needed attention.  The police tried the front door, then the back, then the front again for several minutes before they got any response…

Our houses about about 3 metres apart and made of wood.  So they act like giant speaker boxes. Very resonant. Very LOUD.

I had a panic attack.  And in case I haven’t mentioned it before, even with the magic “stop the panic attack” pill? I still get full on gastro symptoms. As in instant dysentery.  Oh yeah, it’s GREAT fun. And takes me hours to settle down again. You can imagine.  Thank goodness for a constant supply of frozen hydralyte pops.

I like the blackcurrant ones

(And now it’s nearly 6 pm and Sullenteena has started it up again.)

And of course I was supposed to go to my uni lecture this morning.  Nope. Didn’t get there.  Thankfully it’s taped, so once the video is uploaded I can watch it. Maybe after group therapy tomorrow.  Hopefully before the tute on Thursday.

And in other fun news, the local council sneakily, without any community consultation or even changing the signs in the park, suddenly took away our dog walking park.  Yes, I have written a letter expressing my anger. And sent it.

*sigh*

And with all this going on I missed my chiropractic appointment – but they were very understanding and rescheduled it for slightly later.  Ahhhhh!

And it’s raining again.  Looks like the clothes dryer is going to be bought THIS DAMN WEEK. I think it’s going to be a basic Fisher and Paykel model with the vent/lint filter in the front door – because it’s right price and the right configuration for our space.

But at least the flood peak at Wagga Wagga (where  I went to school and where Mum and Dad lived until very recently) has hit 10.6 metres and is now receding – so it didn’t go over the levee!! There are in a declared State of Emergency with lots of evacuations, and I see on their live radar they’ve got more rain coming too – and a visit from the Prime Minister – sheesh, haven’t they suffered enough?!

Waiting….

12:35 pm- I’ve just got to get through til my dentist appointment at 4pm.  Sooooo tired but I can’t sleep… I can sleep in the day if I am sleeping in, but I find it very hard to actually get to sleep during the day.  It’s HOT here today (33.7 outside, 32.4 inside right now, according to the kitchen thermometer) and because it was warm last night and the tooth ached, I didn’t get much sleep last night.  I’m trying very hard to just ride the feelings of anxiety instead of fighting them.  I keep telling myself “Breathe… Be Present… Accept what I am feeling….” (These are basically the principles of mindfulness/ACT summed up.  Good to know that all those many hours of  therapy are doing SOMETHING.)

Ahhh, sleep, I NEED you!

I’ve definitely broken a filling – I managed to get a good look at it last night.  Lost about a quarter of a BIG amalgam filling in my second lower molar. I have lots of fillings, and most of them were done before I was in my mid twenties… I suspect this particular one could date from my childhood, so possibly 30 years ago. That’s probably about the lifespan of these fillings…. fingers crossed that it’s the only one that is giving up! (And hey, I’m NOT a dentist, so I could be totally wrong about that. Well, fancy that. here’s an article saying 10 years is a good run! )  Also fingers crossed that the nice dentist can repair the filling, and not have to replace the whole thing…

I’m also reminding myself that it’s okay to feel anxious. It’s *struggling* with those feelings that causes the problem.  And I am accepting that for me anxiety feels very physical – I keep having to run to the loo, my mouth is dry, my stomach hurts.  And I can’t fix it with more food (not even more frozen grapes!) – I just have to stay calm and let the anxious feelings be there.  I can get through this.

Just gone one o’clock.  (I’m browsing whilst writing, it doesn’t really take me that long to write 300 words!)

I could really do without the next door neighbour SCREAMING at her toddler every 5 minutes  – I swear, that kid must think his name is either “Djuwarna Belting?” or “LEAVE IT!”  At least this time there’s just one toddler, his Mum, and a teenager who may or may not be the mother’s offspring…don’t know, don’t care, just want her to bloody well respect the fact that she is NOT alone in the neighbourhood and that not everyone cares for her DOOMF DOOMF DOOMF music all day and night!

I doubt they’ll last long, anyway – when I had to go over the other day and ask for the stereo to be turned down, the “responsible adult” came to the door, beer in hand, at 3 in the afternoon.  The screeching gets worse during the day until it peaks at around 5:30, when “Djuwarna” becomes “SIT DOWN! EAT IT! Djuwarna Belting?”

1:20pm.  34.5 outside, 33.1 inside.

Going to work in my art journal for a while now.