It has been more than a month since I last wrote something, anything, here or elsewhere. I am always tired now, and I seem to feel overwhelmed more often than not. Panic attacks, formerly a once or twice a month thing, at most, have been occurring on a weekly basis. I am struggling to keep up with the household chores, but they must take a backseat to classes, schoolwork, and pet care, the three of which have been monopolizing my time for weeks now.
I am doing well in most of my classes, thus far earning high marks in all but one. That one, however, is headache, and I am struggling to get my grade in that class to where it needs to be. It is imperative that I do so, or else I will be unable to continue with the program that I am enrolled in. The majority of my days are spent attending lectures and labs, working on assignments, and studying for exams.
Our latest rescue was successfully treated for an ulcerated lip in September. We attempted to incorporate him in to the household, but
the male cat we already owned was rather unwelcoming to him, and after about a week the newcomer made a break for it, shredding a screen and slipping out a window and on to the roof (he was followed by the resident male, a hefty ball of white who couldn't figure out how to get off the roof and meowed piteously at the window until I hauled him back through, nearly putting out my shoulder in the process). He turned up again a few days later, but seemed reluctant to come back inside with us, so M and I agreed to simply let him be an outside cat. We provided him with food and clean water, allowed him to come in and warm up on the increasingly cold, wet autumn nights, and trusted that he would take care of himself as roamed the busy neighborhood. He stopped showing up for dinner several days before Halloween, however, and when we saw him again early this month he had two large holes through his side and an even larger abscess beneath them. One week and a few hundred dollars later he is sutured up (for the second time...he pulled out the first round of steel sutures...), wearing a cone, and healing nicely. Meanwhile, my only bathroom is filled with cat hair, covered in kibble and granules of litter, and what little floor space there is is largely taken up by folded towels and a new litter box, all of which have my obsessive-compulsive disorder kicking in to high gear.
Factor in a two-week late period, the usual onset-of-winter gloominess, and less time with M than I am used to (in his line of work late fall and early winter are quite hectic) and you have a busy, bad-tempered girl who is even less disposed to obey than usual and has zero time or incentive to write about the lack of kink in her life. M, being similarly exhausted and over-worked, hasn't the time or energy to ensure that I follow orders as of late and neither of us has given sex more than a fleeting, wistful thought.
Finals are in a month, and then I will have few weeks to relax, catch up on the housework and blogging, and focus on seducing M on the rare occasions that I do see him. Until then...
Our latest rescue was successfully treated for an ulcerated lip in September. We attempted to incorporate him in to the household, but the male cat we already owned was rather unwelcoming to him, and after about a week the newcomer made a break for it, shredding a screen and slipping out a window and on to the roof (he was followed by the resident male, a hefty ball of white who couldn't figure out how to get off the roof and meowed piteously at the window until I hauled him back through, nearly putting out my shoulder in the process). He turned up again a few days later, but seemed reluctant to come back inside with us, so M and I agreed to simply let him be an outside cat. We provided him with food and clean water, allowed him to come in and warm up on the increasingly cold, wet autumn nights, and trusted that he would take care of himself as roamed the busy neighborhood. He stopped showing up for dinner several days before Halloween, however, and when we saw him again early this month he had two large holes through his side and an even larger abscess beneath them. One week and a few hundred dollars later he is sutured up (for the second time...he pulled out the first round of steel sutures...), wearing a cone, and healing nicely. Meanwhile, my only bathroom is filled with cat hair, covered in kibble and granules of litter, and what little floor space there is is largely taken up by folded towels and a new litter box, all of which have my obsessive-compulsive disorder kicking in to high gear.
I have finished what I was doing, and now I am sitting on the couch with M's laptop, Googling 'Lincoln bed.'
"Have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?" the girl sitting next to me asked.
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