the situation is…

The agitation that rules my mixed episodes will kill me if anything does. Yesterday I put it down to the hellish and hell-tempered wind, which always turns me into a replica of itself. Bastard. Today the air is calm, the weather is sunny and perhaps I can blame it on having to do (shudder) housework. If this allegedly situational mood thing continues, tomorrow I’ll be kicked into mania, because a close friend is arriving to stay for a month. And then at some point I’ll turn situationally into a grouchy social fuckwit, because I’m a loner. My friend laughs and makes space for me when I’m peevish and so then I’ll be situationally relieved and revert gradually into situationally hostly pleasantness. Other situational mood forecasts will be me manic (actually that one is a dead cert) in Addo Elephant Park, tension when a mutual friend joins us for five days (FIVE days with TWO people in my little house!), fist clenching irritation if anybody eats audibly, fear of my solar power and geyser buckling under the strain, some more mania during especially awesome conversations… und so weiter. Afterwards, I’ll be situationally sad about my friend leaving, as well as situationally relieved to reclaim my solitude. It’ll be situationally exhausting, but very situationally good and worthwhile and so despite my situational housework terror, I’m actually very situationally pleased.

But if one more person asks me why my baseline is pretty deep depression and why I’m such a sad soul, There Will Be Consequences. Hand me one of those idiots who makes I hate bipolar it’s awesome memes, I’m feeling situationally homicidal.

Onwards.

profanity is the crutch of a crippled vocabulary

I’m an all or nothing person
No
I’m not a nothing person
I’m an all person
(jmk 2013)

I wrote this a few days ago during a few hours of inexplicable agitation and rage… I thought you might quite enjoy it (guess who’s in the clutches of a mixed episode).

Continue reading profanity is the crutch of a crippled vocabulary

by the time you read this it’ll all be ok

I just don’t think I’m that interesting. I don’t think what I have to say is that interesting. To hear me go blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I mean, who… cares? James Gandolfini

(Thanks beeps and Jas for the 3 quotes 3 days nomination.) I wrote this post while my WiFi was down, so it’s not a snapshot of now.

Continue reading by the time you read this it’ll all be ok

blood, pus and bad neighbours

imageWell it was a good thing I’d wrung out the snotrag and sluiced the spitoon, because I needed them both when at around 1am, an abscess on the visiting dog’s neck burst. She didn’t seem right all day, I’d been keeping a careful eye on her and had decided to take her to the vet this morning anyway. She’s not my dog and in a week she’s flying to New Zealand; the Antipodes are more stringent than most about the whole process, the little dog was already delayed for two months (which is why she’s with me) and so I didn’t want to take any chances. I woke when she came through from the lounge and jumped on to my bed. Nothing unusual there, but she sat bolt upright, then leaned against me, still sitting. I ran my hand over her, felt moisture and tried to puzzle that out, then it got sticky. It was, of course, a defuckinglightful mix of blood and pus. I was relieved, because that meant it wasn’t a puff adder bite. But very confused at how the mass of swollen tissue had managed to escape my attention. Anyway, I sat and drained an astonishing amount of fluid from it, intermittently cleaning up and calming the poor little dog. That particular pink is so utterly vile, thank fuck it was all fresh, so there was no real smell. I dunno how long we sat on that towel covered couch for, fear has a way of turning time even more elastic than usual. Anyway, the sun rose (as it does) and things looked brighter (as they do) and I took her to the vet first thing, indulging in a little light weeping while I waited for them to open. It turns out that she must’ve been bitten by a cat yesterday. There were two incisor marks on her neck (don’t worry, I’m one step ahead of you there, I’m on the look out for a vampire cat) and apparently cat bite abscesses come up incredibly fast, owing to foul bacteria in their mouths. A seven day course of antibiotics will end the day before she flies (and on the seventh day she dosed again). She’s back to her usual lively, growly self so there’s just the meds and draining to do before she goes. I kept the owner in New Zealand updated along the way, sent the carriers a photo of the wound so they know whether they’ll need a vet’s letter about it and oh, while I’m alienating squeamish followers left, right and centre anyway, I also asked the vet to squeeze her (erm, the dog’s, that is) anal glands, because eh nevermind actually.

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Continue reading blood, pus and bad neighbours