Or the antics of your furry rumate, of course.
It is that time of month to worry about rent, and I have more disconnect from the world than usual because almost all I see out there is a focus on shopping. (Not among most of my community, which is a relief.) I am trying to figure out how to do a fundraiser, since my immediate care expenses have gone up, Margot has overextended, and I need some extra help. Payment for a complete blood work-up to see what is going on with me before Medicare kicks in 5 months from now (at least $400) and yes it is either out of pocket or I call 911 for a stay at the hospital, which has risks I am advised against. A small generator to stash in my closet against power failures, or else I'd have to evacuate to a nursing home I might not get free from. Eventually a spare twin bed (rollaway?) against future visits from M or others. An extra set or two of good twin bed sheets to make up for those Jenny4Jesus mildewed -- ditto cheap bed-pillows.
Plus the DME upgrade which has cleared my skin issues but costs an extra $150 per month. If anyone has FSE funds they want to spend before the end of the year, I can send you privately a list of what eligible items I use monthly.
I woke up, though, thinking about Dinah's transformation. Perhaps it's merely Margot Majick of the same sort that makes my days joyous. But M says she thinks Dinah is responding to my new sense of security and peace -- now that Dinah doesn't have to Worry About Me, she has the room to explore affection instead of vigilance. If that is so, I feel so badly about what I have put that little kitteh through.
The fairy lights on the new timer come on more or less shortly after noon and go off at 7-ish. Not what I set it for but I need better eyes and hands to recalibrate it, and I am fine with it for now. Their colourful emergence each afternoon reminds me Margot has occupied these rooms with me, she has keys to the front door now which are on her keychain that jingles with the bells from collars of all the cats she's love, including now the bell from Dinah's collar. (Since Dinah is her kitteh now, too.) Margot has filled these rooms with the delicious scent of her cooking, we have slept and watched each other sleep in here, made passionate love, shared meals, pored over photographs, wept and talked and laughed without limit.
This room has stopped being a prison and is now a shimmery rainbow doorway. No wonder I need to sleep more to understand it all.
Tammy told me she feels reassurance and hope every time she comes in the door. What a great thing to hear.
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