I Want Whiskers

Damn these early mornings. Truthfully, it's not such a bad price to pay, for being here. An occasional night up, watching the cats and Max sleep. The pond now resembles the pool that it is, more than not. The water is blue, and chlorinated to the Nth degree. The poor frogs have disappeared, although I hear them, at dusk. Of course, they do disappear. They turn the color of the pool, which is an odd blue, with grey, fake pebbles. To see a frog that color disturbs the mind.

It is a great time to muse about life. But it's too early in the morning to start sentences with, "You know, so much is wrong in the world today..." and then finish with 'we are all going to hell' or 'but sunshine is just around the corner'. One point, Congress needs to give in before the American people do. THEY work for US. Stop the Sequester. Now.

A friend brightened my yesterday, with a bouquet of chocolate 'flowers.' This is the new mother of Pancake. I am always glad she visits, as she is good company, and she forms a relationship with Pancake. I now feel comfortable enough to turn my darling over to her new mother. It will happen soon, I promise.

I promise.

No, actually, no kidding, I do promise. The unicorn meat eating cats, especially Ratty, are so bothered by her small, zipping form, as she races around the apartment. I would like to have fostered an older cat, but it is time to give my cats a needed rest from territorial issues. Perhaps later on in the summer.

More later. I promise.

7 AM EST

Yeah, I do go on about how that time of the morning is great, if I can't sleep. I have a dim view of that time, now that I have had some more sleep, and I deserve every minute.  I can see for one thing. Nothing like drinking coffee in the dark to try to make your day brighter, huh? The morning scents are cheerful, coffee, candle, cat poo. The ground is full of dew. Pancake hangs from the curtains, and all's right with the world.

It's uncertain mornings like this that make me second-guess myself about the blog, sometimes. No one knows the true identity of Mrs. Klonipin Chronicles, but my name is written all over my blog. Same for other writers in our field, mental 'illness.' There is a reason for that. When I meet people, they say one of two things: "I would never have guessed," OR "Oh, yeah" in that frightened, uncertain tone, as they back slowly away.

I am just a person, with some recognizable features of several disorders and a disease. There are too many of me to count, on this ever exploding planet. I am creative and passionate and hurt easily. I am vulnerable with a lot of personal courage. I wear a human face, although I would sport cat features, if it was allowed. The ignorant, judge, and sometimes, sadly, the educated do, too.

Oh my. How I do go on. The day is lovely, and I have a new haircut to flaunt. Life is not hard. If my disorders bother some, they don't bother others. What my life is today: eat, take my meds, take a shower, do chores, talk about my sobriety to my HP and my sponsor. Talk to my friends, eat, nap, love, clean. Meanwhile, the cat poo stinks.