(no subject)
Tweak is hanging in there. She still feels icky. Last night I came home and she wasn't doing well at all, so I didn't try and feed her anything-- I probably should have, but she just seemed to be so lethargic and unhappy and stuffed up that I couldn't. I was wigged about that, and wondered why Steve wasn't giving me support, and he explained that it was due to the fact that we're buying a house... and he's on grant status, and might not be here in X amount of months.
We've almost entirely bought this house, and now he's getting cold feet.
So he's stressed about that, and he says that it seems like I don't really care either way. The truth is, I don't. The problems that could crop up with that would be months away. Tweak is right here, right now. Steve says that no matter what happens, if she lives or dies, that eventually things will go on in the same vein, regarding her, but not so with the house, since he could be unemployed and maybe shipped back to England.
He has a point, but I really don't care. My cat could have heart failure. Even if she doesn't, she's still really sick, and congested, and probably fairly damned well miserable. I want to support Steve, but any time I say that he can't tell the future in regards to the house, he dismisses me (despite the fact that he's said the same thing about Tweak).
It's frustrating. He can't see that the house thing might work out, and even if it doesn't, that there are many options (marriage much for green card?).
I'm tired.
I want Tweak to be better, to show some significant signs of improvement. I want to stop having to force feed her. I want her nose to unclog. I want things to be better.
But for now I have to hold on, and so does she, and so does Steve.
Thank you guys who commented on the last entry. You had your hearts in it, and I appreciate that.
OK. Lunch break's almost over, and the weekend for me will start in three and a half hours. I hate Sundays-- if Tweak gets worse, I'll have a forty minute drive to the nearest emergency vet, which I won't be able to afford, because just to walk in is over $100. Yay.
me.
We've almost entirely bought this house, and now he's getting cold feet.
So he's stressed about that, and he says that it seems like I don't really care either way. The truth is, I don't. The problems that could crop up with that would be months away. Tweak is right here, right now. Steve says that no matter what happens, if she lives or dies, that eventually things will go on in the same vein, regarding her, but not so with the house, since he could be unemployed and maybe shipped back to England.
He has a point, but I really don't care. My cat could have heart failure. Even if she doesn't, she's still really sick, and congested, and probably fairly damned well miserable. I want to support Steve, but any time I say that he can't tell the future in regards to the house, he dismisses me (despite the fact that he's said the same thing about Tweak).
It's frustrating. He can't see that the house thing might work out, and even if it doesn't, that there are many options (marriage much for green card?).
I'm tired.
I want Tweak to be better, to show some significant signs of improvement. I want to stop having to force feed her. I want her nose to unclog. I want things to be better.
But for now I have to hold on, and so does she, and so does Steve.
Thank you guys who commented on the last entry. You had your hearts in it, and I appreciate that.
OK. Lunch break's almost over, and the weekend for me will start in three and a half hours. I hate Sundays-- if Tweak gets worse, I'll have a forty minute drive to the nearest emergency vet, which I won't be able to afford, because just to walk in is over $100. Yay.
me.