2013-11-21 - 12:46 a.m.

Things going on.

The cats are driving me crazy.

I'm having control freak issues about Thanksgiving.

I've given up on National Novel Writing Month.

I'm really not doing well concerning my upcoming birthday.

The cats are mostly good and wonderful and I sure do feel very lucky that I am able to share my life with them. But FUCK. Oscar has been keeping me up all night for months. And so, other little cat things, like a thundering herd of cats storming my room at 6 am this morning... RIGHT AFTER I FINALLY GOT OSCAR TO SLEEP...knocking over a lamp and A TABLE in their wake...FUCK. I'm so tired. I don't know what to do about Oscar. I really, really don't. He's fine for a lot of the day. But then he has these episodes where he just meows, he BELLOWS actually, very, very loudly and insanely. There is nothing immediately noticable that is wrong with him. He's been to the vet for this. His bloodwork is fine (for an eighteen year old cat), he doesn't have a urinary tract infection, his blood pressure is under control etc,. He's now on medicine for senile dogs but it's not doing anything. I've tried giving him pain medicine to see if that helps and it doesn't. So now what? Do I just listen to him bellow every night from 2 am until 6 am? Can I? No. I cannot. I am exhausted. Right after he finally goes to sleep at night Eric gets up for work and then I have another hour or two of half sleep while I listen to Eric get ready for work. Not that Eric is having it any better than I am except that he can sleep like a billion ton rock and also, when Oscar starts his bellowing I usually go downstairs and close the door to the TV room where Eric has usually fallen asleep. You can still hear the bellowing through the door but when you sleep like a billion ton rock you aren't going to hear it. I, on the other hand, sleep like a pebble. A tiny, tiny pebble. Anyway. I would like to have a bit of a cat break. Mama needs to get away. So much work.

Thanksgiving. Sigh. It's my favorite holiday. I felt that last year was the worst Thanksgiving ever and I've been upset about it all year. So this year I really wanted to just have a perfectly nice Thanksgiving. Last year was a disaster. I was stressed and exhausted and the worst idea I ever had was offering to drive to Kalamazoo on Thanksgiving day to cook dinner. This year I just really wanted to do it right. Cooking Thanksgiving dinner is my favorite thing to do when I'm not rushed. I spend days planning it. I have oven and stove space mapped out and planned. I have a menu. I spend weeks thinking about it and sorting things out and shopping for food. It's a big deal to me. So this year I invited a person from work and her mother because they have no where to go. They were going to have a Thanksgiving just the two of them and I said, "hey, come to my house, we would love to have you for dinner!". And she accepted. Last week she said she wanted to bring something and I told her to bring a Brussels Sprout dish because she loves them and I figured she would know some good recipes. So today when I get to work she tells me that she is bringing SEVEN dishes to Thanksgiving. And that is horrible. Two of them are repeats of what I make already (and I sent her my menu) and the other four sound great but holy shit! I already make more than way too much food for this holiday. Yes, more than way too much. Plus...I have oven and stove space planned out. I simply cannot accommodate seven more dishes. And, I really don't want her in my kitchen taking over. I really, really don't. And if she's bringing that much than she's going to have to be in the kitchen. I told her, without freaking out, that, wow, that would put a lot of food on the table and, wow, I don't think I can keep all that warm with all the other things I am making. And she got a little weird about it. Like she was upset. And I guess that if she wants to make Thanksgiving dinner than maybe she should just host it at her house. Anyway, this is all I'm going to say about it. I'm not going to say anything else to her. Let her bring her seven dishes. I'm going to do my thing. I've decided it's best if I wake up early on Wednesday and get all my cooking done. Because that's the thing I like best, other than seeing my family (who won't even all be joining anyway). I like getting up early and cooking for a bunch of quiet hours in the morning. So I'll pretend that Wednesday is Thanksgiving. Then on Thursday I can get up and just wait to warm every thing up.

I shouldn't give up on National Novel Writing Month. It isn't that I can't write the stupid novel, it's just that I don't feel like it. I woke up the last two mornings just not in the mood. The previous sixteen mornings I really enjoyed getting up and writing for an hour or two. It was nice to feel like I "HAD" to do it. Because I never really do anything unless I HAVE to. But yesterday I woke up and, even though I am almost 25,000 words into the stupid thing, I just didn't feel like it. Today the same thing. I was antsy to get going on my day. Maybe, hopefully, tomorrow will be different but I might be at such a deficit now that it won't matter. There's no way I can write more than 2,000 words a day.

My birthday is looming and I am very depressed about it. People keep telling me that your forties are the best time of your life. And I could totally see how that could be true. If you have children. I'm turning forty and I am still not resolved within myself about the childlessness. So I am pretty depressed. By pretty depressed I mean really depressed. There are so many things that you can do up until the day you die. Except having a child. That expires. Even the option of adopting a child expires.

This has been a yucky entry.


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