(no subject)
Well, bang goes another resolution, but I think I've had ample reason for having failed to post over the last few days. There's been quite a lot going on - shock to suffer from, locks to get changed, police to wait for, various parties to inform, sources of money to find, alternative handbags/purses/keyrings to locate, cats to starve - and when there hasn't, well, I've been I've either been incapacitated by my own misery/mental distress, or busy sitting around staring into space.
Important things:
- Many many thanks for the kind, warm-hearted supportive messages. I'm very grateful, really I am; hopefully I'll get back on track as far as responding to comments goes soon - at the moment it's one of the things by which I'm feeling overwhelmed (what the hell kind of a sentence was that?)
- Having failed to reappear on Friday, despite three_wishes and Branwell's best tracking skills, Edna informed me that she'd found her way home at half past four on Saturday morning by mewling her best Kate Bush impression from the outer sill of my bedroom window: Ceri! It's me, your kitty,1 I've come ho - ooo - ome, so co - oo - ooo - old, let me in at your window! Verily there was much rejoicing, displays of affection, and feasting on tuna, and before long I was back in bed with two cats curled up at my feet. The happy, silly, curious little cat was back. Yay!
- My digital camera also turned out to have gone missing during the burglary. Waaaaah. Try not to dwell, try not to dwell...
- The front door's locks were changed on Friday, but not the back door's; the letting agency's maintenance men couldn't get an appropriate lock till after the weekend. I was meant to get in touch again today to tell them when would be convenient for them to come round, but it turned out not to be such a convenient day for me. Better luck tomorrow. In the meantime I've been keeping the back door locked, w/ the key left in the hole on the inside, turned a little, which is meant to render the door impossible to unlock from w/out. Hmmm.
- A nice policeman who came round to dust for fingerprints helped me recover my peg bag (dumped a short distance away under a garden hedge on Waungron Road, w/ a peggy trail giving it away), and pointed out that it had probably been taken for a handbag in the dark, what w/ having a shoulder strap an' all. Though it'd have been nicer to have, say, my camera back, it is nice not to have lost the peg bag forever - I made it myself, last year, out of entirely recycled fabrics, and it was the first bag I'd sewn w/ a lining (well, to date it's the only bag I've sewn w/ a lining, but that's beside the point!) = sentimental value an' all that.
- three_wishes has been brilliant, keeping me company, picking up prescriptions, looking for lost pussycats, lending me money, doing the washing up and generally being ace while I've been wibbling wetly. Reliable, always to hand in times of crisis, endlessly mockable - a sister is an excellent thing! Phonecalls from L. were also very welcome and very much appreciated on Friday, and my Dad has been ace, very sympathetic and non-judgemental on the phone, and, w/out my having asked him for anything of the sort, sending £100 emergency funds round yesterday afternoon, couriered by my Auntie S. (who also brought me 20l of cat litter, saving me a great deal of backache on the way back from Tesco!). So that is all marvellous.
- There's also been less marvellous stuff - shock, tearfulness (sometimes rapidly escalating into hysteria), public panic and public tears, fitful sleep at nights (a couple of pleasant sleeps during mornings, though, once I've accomplished whatever it was I had to get up for!), periods of deep, deep despair/gerneralised existential angst lasting a couple of hours at a time... It's all fairly obviously the perennial underlying stuff, stirred up by the trauma to hand. Nevertheless, I really need to chase up all the psych stuff I've let slip these last few months. And hope that maybe Victim Support will get in touch w/ me sooner than that's likely to kick into action. Do they do counselling? I really have no idea, but it'd seem reasonable...
Life continues, and appointments remain to be met. Poor wee Edna, as if house invasion and brief, unplanned introductions to the great-wild-world (which I bet she LOVED) weren't enough, she was booked in to be spayed today, and taken in to be spayed she was. She came around from the anaesthetic well, it seems, and was sociable enough to be responsive and friendly to the veterinary nurses curious to get to know her while she was interned. Good ol' girl.
It's encouraging that, not that many hours since anaesthetic, painkillers and antibiotics, she's still curious enough to want to climb my step-ladder :-) Still, she really really doesn't like wearing this big ol' collar. But I thought it was necessary, since she's been so intolerant of collar-wearing over these last few months that she's ripped out tufts of her own fur... Didn't seem like she'd be blasé about interference in her flank
1 N.B. (Piss-)artistic licence there, she's not my kitty, I'm merely taking care of her for a few months while her owner is away. I've known her since she was tiny, though, and love her almost as much as if she were mine; I can't express the horror and agonies I went through while she was AWOL as a direct consequence of my own lapse of common sense.
Important things:
- Many many thanks for the kind, warm-hearted supportive messages. I'm very grateful, really I am; hopefully I'll get back on track as far as responding to comments goes soon - at the moment it's one of the things by which I'm feeling overwhelmed (what the hell kind of a sentence was that?)
- Having failed to reappear on Friday, despite three_wishes and Branwell's best tracking skills, Edna informed me that she'd found her way home at half past four on Saturday morning by mewling her best Kate Bush impression from the outer sill of my bedroom window: Ceri! It's me, your kitty,1 I've come ho - ooo - ome, so co - oo - ooo - old, let me in at your window! Verily there was much rejoicing, displays of affection, and feasting on tuna, and before long I was back in bed with two cats curled up at my feet. The happy, silly, curious little cat was back. Yay!
- My digital camera also turned out to have gone missing during the burglary. Waaaaah. Try not to dwell, try not to dwell...
- The front door's locks were changed on Friday, but not the back door's; the letting agency's maintenance men couldn't get an appropriate lock till after the weekend. I was meant to get in touch again today to tell them when would be convenient for them to come round, but it turned out not to be such a convenient day for me. Better luck tomorrow. In the meantime I've been keeping the back door locked, w/ the key left in the hole on the inside, turned a little, which is meant to render the door impossible to unlock from w/out. Hmmm.
- A nice policeman who came round to dust for fingerprints helped me recover my peg bag (dumped a short distance away under a garden hedge on Waungron Road, w/ a peggy trail giving it away), and pointed out that it had probably been taken for a handbag in the dark, what w/ having a shoulder strap an' all. Though it'd have been nicer to have, say, my camera back, it is nice not to have lost the peg bag forever - I made it myself, last year, out of entirely recycled fabrics, and it was the first bag I'd sewn w/ a lining (well, to date it's the only bag I've sewn w/ a lining, but that's beside the point!) = sentimental value an' all that.
- three_wishes has been brilliant, keeping me company, picking up prescriptions, looking for lost pussycats, lending me money, doing the washing up and generally being ace while I've been wibbling wetly. Reliable, always to hand in times of crisis, endlessly mockable - a sister is an excellent thing! Phonecalls from L. were also very welcome and very much appreciated on Friday, and my Dad has been ace, very sympathetic and non-judgemental on the phone, and, w/out my having asked him for anything of the sort, sending £100 emergency funds round yesterday afternoon, couriered by my Auntie S. (who also brought me 20l of cat litter, saving me a great deal of backache on the way back from Tesco!). So that is all marvellous.
- There's also been less marvellous stuff - shock, tearfulness (sometimes rapidly escalating into hysteria), public panic and public tears, fitful sleep at nights (a couple of pleasant sleeps during mornings, though, once I've accomplished whatever it was I had to get up for!), periods of deep, deep despair/gerneralised existential angst lasting a couple of hours at a time... It's all fairly obviously the perennial underlying stuff, stirred up by the trauma to hand. Nevertheless, I really need to chase up all the psych stuff I've let slip these last few months. And hope that maybe Victim Support will get in touch w/ me sooner than that's likely to kick into action. Do they do counselling? I really have no idea, but it'd seem reasonable...
Life continues, and appointments remain to be met. Poor wee Edna, as if house invasion and brief, unplanned introductions to the great-wild-world (which I bet she LOVED) weren't enough, she was booked in to be spayed today, and taken in to be spayed she was. She came around from the anaesthetic well, it seems, and was sociable enough to be responsive and friendly to the veterinary nurses curious to get to know her while she was interned. Good ol' girl.
It's encouraging that, not that many hours since anaesthetic, painkillers and antibiotics, she's still curious enough to want to climb my step-ladder :-) Still, she really really doesn't like wearing this big ol' collar. But I thought it was necessary, since she's been so intolerant of collar-wearing over these last few months that she's ripped out tufts of her own fur... Didn't seem like she'd be blasé about interference in her flank
1 N.B. (Piss-)artistic licence there, she's not my kitty, I'm merely taking care of her for a few months while her owner is away. I've known her since she was tiny, though, and love her almost as much as if she were mine; I can't express the horror and agonies I went through while she was AWOL as a direct consequence of my own lapse of common sense.