Confusion Drift

I took an entire day off from writing yesterday, and I feel bereft, as if a cat had gone missing. I had to leave a celebration last night, to keep away from the beer that flowed pretty freely. One guy was there with his two kids, just knee-walking drunk, and I just can't watch someone do that. And I speak as the Adult Child of an Alcoholic...

Life is relatively good. I took my anti-evil pills last night, rather than when I am supposed to. I ate fudge every time I woke last night, but I slept well. I was not tempted to drink, the disgust of it just overwhelmed me. The cuts on my arm are almost healed, but the scars look like a ladder that runs up toward my wrist.

The dog sleeps this morning, and the zinnia slowly die, one by one. The lawn needs to be mowed, one of life's pleasures for me, but I have been too busy for even that.

It's the water that tastes good this morning. I am past the coffee hunger. I feel discombobulated, and unorganized. My blog posts set the day for me, and missing one now, is tantamount to confusion for that day. Or perhaps it's the stress of my dreams. Or the fudge. I finally became sick of eating about 4 am. The question finally came to me, "Why am I doing this to myself?" As if it is a form of self-mutilation. Now all that's left is to try to bind the wounds...

There is a deer in the yard this morning, and I am surprised that Max doesn't bark and lunge for it, when I take him outside. The deer seems immune to the presence of the dog and I. It has become a suburban deer. No deer I know would stand still like that, with no warning flick of the tail, out at the Old House.

Minkins paws are wet, when he comes in.

This morning, I go back to the neurologist for a re-examination. He will be disappointed that I haven't been taking the pills he gave me. I don't want more pills, but less...

It is warm and muggy outside, and I feel relief at the dry, cool air inside. Three months from now, I will not feel the same way, but whatever. I will cross that bridge when I come to it.

Syria looms in the distance, some almost, forgotten dream.