I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.
Dear Peruser,
I really thought I was going to lose little dog Ollie. I mean, thursday his back legs were totally useless and twined around each other. He couldn't put his weight on them and the vet got no reaction when he pinched Ollie's toes. The vet has this very expressive face and I knew it was no good. Ollie got meds and orders for cage rest. I went and bought the cage after getting into it in the WalMart parking lot, but I've already told you that.
I assembled the crate and padded it with pillows and Ollie seemed to accept till till bed time when all he did was scream and scream and scream and Ollie screams like a girl. Really. You wouldn't know that he was a dog. I came out to quiet him and he had somehow pulled the cage down around him. He was shaking and overwrought and I decided that Ollie would never make it in a cage so he was on pillow rest.
I stayed home on Friday so I could carry him out to pee. Poor little guy was so embarrassed as I held his back end up andhe strained to pee. I fussed over him and spoiled him and worried myself sick. Unfortunately the husband was no help. Far from it, he made me feel even less than what I am. he wasn't even in town but the man has a cell phone and he's not afraid to use it.
It rained all weekend and Sunday night the laundry room and parts of the basement was awash. I had to tell the husband four times that the basement didn't leak but rather the drain outside the cellar door got clogged and the water came into the basement. Later it irritated me when the husband used the word we about checking the drain as in we checked it a 9 and by 9:20 it was clogged. What's this we stuff. The man never got off his ass all day long. he didn't check the drain once. And when I was dealing with the floodlet and trying to wrestle with the pump he stood there staring at me with his mouth open. He's luky I didn't hit him in the head with the pump but I swear it would have been justifiable.
So now the basement smells like damp and cat pee and mold. The royal we,meaning me, is still trying to dry things out.
Ollie was feeling better on MOnday but he had a vet's appointment and tried to climb me as I held him in the car. My collar bone is all scratched and bruised and since it's a pressure point for fibro it hurt like crazy when Ollie dug his elbow into my collar bone. I didn't say a word and yet the husband got pissed and yelled at me all the way home.
Ollie's much much better though the doc says he has to take it easy because if this happens again he'll need to be put down. (I don't think so)
So I can now breathe about Olllie but the husband's behavior is worse. He's ignoring me even more, just will not listen to anything I have to say but he has to tell me every last thing that crosses through his head until I can imagine myself throttling him. I am so sick of hearing the sound of his voice. I haven't said anything about it, why bother, he wouldn't listen anyway and have taken to keeping a list of everything that I do at work so that I do not have to repeat myself half a dozen times a day.
You know it's odd. If I'm around when he's on the phone he might tell someone what a gem I am and no sooner does he hang up then he orders me around as if he is some pasha sitting on a silk cushion. I was in the middle of something the other day when I was given an urgent task of looking up a phone number. In the phone book sitting out for the world to see. You see, looking up numbers or faxing items is beneath him. He has more important things to do but that seems to be sitting bullshitting with people on the phone and pretending he's some big shot. And he just keeps loading one thing after another on me acting like everything is a crises and a life actually depended on it. Hell this isn't brain surgery and if things have to be done so quickily then the old fart can get off his can and do it for himself.
As you can see disgruntled doesn't even begin to describe me lately. I suppose it's all my own fault. I shouldn't actually be able to do his job better than he does but I do, much better without breaking a sweat.
And to top it all off I'm in a major fibro flare and everything is hard for me. I transpose figures, I mishear and my latest is mis reading. I was in Family Dollar looking for dog bones and found a package of SOUP PADS. I wondered how you made soup from a pad looked closer and realised it read SOAP PADS. At the library I could have sworn they had a book on dead flower arranging (DRIED). So I have to be very careful with everything I type and the messages I take. Plus I hurt, every part of me but the bunged up toe is unbearable. On top of all of this the buffoon I married is struting around like he's cock of the walk. Sigh. Plus he's away again on friday and the office is all mine only I have to account for everything I do and explain it and explain it over and over again because the old fart won't listen.
Is it bed time yet? ---me---
I really thought I was going to lose little dog Ollie. I mean, thursday his back legs were totally useless and twined around each other. He couldn't put his weight on them and the vet got no reaction when he pinched Ollie's toes. The vet has this very expressive face and I knew it was no good. Ollie got meds and orders for cage rest. I went and bought the cage after getting into it in the WalMart parking lot, but I've already told you that.
I assembled the crate and padded it with pillows and Ollie seemed to accept till till bed time when all he did was scream and scream and scream and Ollie screams like a girl. Really. You wouldn't know that he was a dog. I came out to quiet him and he had somehow pulled the cage down around him. He was shaking and overwrought and I decided that Ollie would never make it in a cage so he was on pillow rest.
I stayed home on Friday so I could carry him out to pee. Poor little guy was so embarrassed as I held his back end up andhe strained to pee. I fussed over him and spoiled him and worried myself sick. Unfortunately the husband was no help. Far from it, he made me feel even less than what I am. he wasn't even in town but the man has a cell phone and he's not afraid to use it.
It rained all weekend and Sunday night the laundry room and parts of the basement was awash. I had to tell the husband four times that the basement didn't leak but rather the drain outside the cellar door got clogged and the water came into the basement. Later it irritated me when the husband used the word we about checking the drain as in we checked it a 9 and by 9:20 it was clogged. What's this we stuff. The man never got off his ass all day long. he didn't check the drain once. And when I was dealing with the floodlet and trying to wrestle with the pump he stood there staring at me with his mouth open. He's luky I didn't hit him in the head with the pump but I swear it would have been justifiable.
So now the basement smells like damp and cat pee and mold. The royal we,meaning me, is still trying to dry things out.
Ollie was feeling better on MOnday but he had a vet's appointment and tried to climb me as I held him in the car. My collar bone is all scratched and bruised and since it's a pressure point for fibro it hurt like crazy when Ollie dug his elbow into my collar bone. I didn't say a word and yet the husband got pissed and yelled at me all the way home.
Ollie's much much better though the doc says he has to take it easy because if this happens again he'll need to be put down. (I don't think so)
So I can now breathe about Olllie but the husband's behavior is worse. He's ignoring me even more, just will not listen to anything I have to say but he has to tell me every last thing that crosses through his head until I can imagine myself throttling him. I am so sick of hearing the sound of his voice. I haven't said anything about it, why bother, he wouldn't listen anyway and have taken to keeping a list of everything that I do at work so that I do not have to repeat myself half a dozen times a day.
You know it's odd. If I'm around when he's on the phone he might tell someone what a gem I am and no sooner does he hang up then he orders me around as if he is some pasha sitting on a silk cushion. I was in the middle of something the other day when I was given an urgent task of looking up a phone number. In the phone book sitting out for the world to see. You see, looking up numbers or faxing items is beneath him. He has more important things to do but that seems to be sitting bullshitting with people on the phone and pretending he's some big shot. And he just keeps loading one thing after another on me acting like everything is a crises and a life actually depended on it. Hell this isn't brain surgery and if things have to be done so quickily then the old fart can get off his can and do it for himself.
As you can see disgruntled doesn't even begin to describe me lately. I suppose it's all my own fault. I shouldn't actually be able to do his job better than he does but I do, much better without breaking a sweat.
And to top it all off I'm in a major fibro flare and everything is hard for me. I transpose figures, I mishear and my latest is mis reading. I was in Family Dollar looking for dog bones and found a package of SOUP PADS. I wondered how you made soup from a pad looked closer and realised it read SOAP PADS. At the library I could have sworn they had a book on dead flower arranging (DRIED). So I have to be very careful with everything I type and the messages I take. Plus I hurt, every part of me but the bunged up toe is unbearable. On top of all of this the buffoon I married is struting around like he's cock of the walk. Sigh. Plus he's away again on friday and the office is all mine only I have to account for everything I do and explain it and explain it over and over again because the old fart won't listen.
Is it bed time yet? ---me---
posted by ---me--- at Tuesday, June 27, 2006
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