humph
Well the visit with my dad was not only uneventful, but mostly nice.
But for some reason a few days after it, I slid into this funk. I really don't think it has anything to do with his visit. It doesn't appear to be some submerged depression regarding him. I can't seem to put my finger on it. I appear to have caught a case of the I-just-don't-cares.
Like seriously. I know how extreme it is because THE SIL is in town and has been for almost a week and I there have been times where I just sit and dink around on facebook. Or watch a show. Like just sit and watch a show. Not watching something while I cut out a pattern or fold laundry or sort coupons etc etc. For over a week now I have been doing the bare minimum. I don't have any projects going, even though I have at least two I should pick up. It took me a week to get to folding the laundry. I haven't listed anything on etsy or ebay. It's just weird. Usually I would be all over myself about it, but.....I just don't care. I'm not overly sad, though I do have weepy moments. So. I dunno. Everyone is all "just relax for a change" and I am. But I guess I get a little worried that the fog won't lift. That I won't get functional again. And I would kinda like to know what's going on.
Well, I did get all chewed up by that panther. I mean stray cat. They have me on a pretty big dose of antibiotics and it is messing with my stomach pretty bad. And Scott says that they can make you feel all tired and icky too.
That's another thing that's weird. And it seems dumb when I say it. But I am surprised by my reaction to the cat biting me. He seemed so friendly and everyone else petted him. I guess I just smelled like I would taste good. What we thought were claw marks are actually fang marks leading down to the puncture wounds. Then Scott noticed on the back of my arm where his claws went in. Five little punctures, alarmingly far apart. I guess I didn't realize what a big cat he was. Anyway. I learned my lesson. No petting cats I don't know. But I have this fear now. Like I look around the yard, making sure there isn't anything lurking. I don't fear my own boys. They are family. Though lord knows family can turn and dig their fangs in, sometimes faster than a cat!
Anyway.
I need to take my stinky self to bed and actually get up and shower tomorrow. I hope this is all hormonal and will all flush away at some point. Cause, if I cared, I would be sick of this fog.
But for some reason a few days after it, I slid into this funk. I really don't think it has anything to do with his visit. It doesn't appear to be some submerged depression regarding him. I can't seem to put my finger on it. I appear to have caught a case of the I-just-don't-cares.
Like seriously. I know how extreme it is because THE SIL is in town and has been for almost a week and I there have been times where I just sit and dink around on facebook. Or watch a show. Like just sit and watch a show. Not watching something while I cut out a pattern or fold laundry or sort coupons etc etc. For over a week now I have been doing the bare minimum. I don't have any projects going, even though I have at least two I should pick up. It took me a week to get to folding the laundry. I haven't listed anything on etsy or ebay. It's just weird. Usually I would be all over myself about it, but.....I just don't care. I'm not overly sad, though I do have weepy moments. So. I dunno. Everyone is all "just relax for a change" and I am. But I guess I get a little worried that the fog won't lift. That I won't get functional again. And I would kinda like to know what's going on.
Well, I did get all chewed up by that panther. I mean stray cat. They have me on a pretty big dose of antibiotics and it is messing with my stomach pretty bad. And Scott says that they can make you feel all tired and icky too.
That's another thing that's weird. And it seems dumb when I say it. But I am surprised by my reaction to the cat biting me. He seemed so friendly and everyone else petted him. I guess I just smelled like I would taste good. What we thought were claw marks are actually fang marks leading down to the puncture wounds. Then Scott noticed on the back of my arm where his claws went in. Five little punctures, alarmingly far apart. I guess I didn't realize what a big cat he was. Anyway. I learned my lesson. No petting cats I don't know. But I have this fear now. Like I look around the yard, making sure there isn't anything lurking. I don't fear my own boys. They are family. Though lord knows family can turn and dig their fangs in, sometimes faster than a cat!
Anyway.
I need to take my stinky self to bed and actually get up and shower tomorrow. I hope this is all hormonal and will all flush away at some point. Cause, if I cared, I would be sick of this fog.