I haven't posted anything in a few days, and unless something significant happens (it's supposed to rain tomorrow... around here, that may count as significant), I probably won't be posting much anytime soon. It's not that I'm avoiding my blog or anything; I just don't have much worth posting. Ever feel like your life is incredibly boring and is really only useful as a giant time-suck in which all good things go to die?
Yeah. I'm there.
The chickens are... chickens. The mice that have invaded their coop have multiplied to the point of truly gross. I suspect they're gathering forces and plotting a coup and eventually I'll be raising mice instead of birds. I'm going to get in there this weekend, muck everything out, and set some sticky traps underneath the coop itself. I may pull the food out entirely and feed the birds in the yard every few hours. Of course, I'll have to remember to do that, and I'll have to make sure that Speed Bump, the Dog Who Eats Everything, is in the house when I feed, but if it gets rid of the mice, then so be it.
The cats are good. The Old Man Cat's giant cyst has pretty well disappeared. You can see where it was, of course, but it isn't completely disgusting any more. Now he's decided to scratch all the fur off his neck (I gave him flea meds, so I know it's not that). He may be due for another trip back to the vet here soon. The rest of the cats are fine. Insane, but fine. Demanding, but fine.
M1 is doing well. He has problems focusing, but they're intermittent. Wednesdays and Fridays are the worst, but I think I've worked out why: He gets worn out swimming on Tuesdays and Thursdays but refuses to go to sleep when he goes to bed, so then he's tired and sore the next day. It makes for some long school days. He's done really well this week, and it's been nice.
M2 is another story. Two days after our last therapy visit, she flipped. She'd been doing really well since mid-November, and before that her stint as a complete butt monkey hadn't lasted very long, so I had thought she was making progress and that maybe her moodiness was just a phase and it was all in my mind. But no... she was just in between cycles. Or something. Ironically, since she'd been doing so well, we'd more or less decided to stop going to therapy. Now? Well, I can't get her to use the therapy tools she already has, so I still don't see the point in going back, but it's very tempting to make the appointment, dump her in the chair, rant to the therapist, throw my hands up and walk out. I won't, of course, but the idea has mental merit. She stomps, screams, refuses to budge, and is otherwise completely obtuse every time something doesn't go her way or messes with her plans. She's never been the boss of the household in her life, and I'm not about to start letting her have that role now, but good grief. Last night she managed to dunk her hair into her bowl of soup, so I told her she needed to wash her hair. Forty-five minutes later, I literally dragged her to the bathroom. After that, she refused to let me tuck her into bed (fine by me) before bursting into tears and self-imploding about how horrible a person she was. She's decided she doesn't want Oz to take her to school any more. She doesn't want to practice violin very often. She doesn't want to do X, Y or Z, and all the begging and bribery in the world won't make her budge. I have to admit I hope she can channel this persistence into adulthood, because if she could use it in a positive way it'd be incredibly effective, but for now it's a real pain in the rear.
The gerbil still lives.
The dogs are currently asleep on the floor.
Oz is at work, doing what he does and bringing home the bacon. His birthday was this last weekend. I got him the new Zelda game and hope to take him on a trip sometime this year.
And as for me? Well, I'm just hanging in there, trying to keep it all together, get it all done, and occasionally learn something new in the process. One day at a time...