I sent a text to the head of the rescue letting her know that I may not be the best fit for Colt. And, of course, as soon as I posted here and sent that text, both Crowley and Colt fell asleep and are very peaceful now.

I can't go back to sleep, my house is a mess and I have two papers, plus a discussion question (that was due Thursday) that I need to complete today. I've finished the reading and putting together the outlines for the papers. Now I just need to get to writing.

As for the age thing, despite having grown kids I feel like I'm mentally somewhere much younger than almost 50. One of the ladies at the rescue said she thought I was in my mid to late 30's. Maybe it is the purple hair? As for decision making, I make it up as I go along. I wish I were better about planning out long term goals and then breaking them down into short term goals instead of just following where life leads. These days, I'm happy to get from day to day.

That's very interesting, askye. I often feel like I am stuck emotionally at 18 when I had my first major depression and dropped out of college. On a somewhat related noted, I drove by the college I attended a couple weeks back and ended up with a weeks worth of nightmares.

I hope Colt will find a home today. There was one lady who fell for him while I was there and she was going to go get her husband. If he doesn't get adopted a different foster family is going to take him and there is a Catahoula mix girl named Dalia who will come home with me. She is about 6-7 months old, maybe twice the size of Crowley but smaller than Jack.

Sj it's hard when those memories are stirred up. I hope nightmares are gone.

Suzi I hope the new foster dog is a better fit.

Yeah, they've either stopped, or I've stopped remembering them. But it happens a lot, and when I tell people they roll their eyes. So, I just don't tell people.

I'm sorry, sj. Emotional sucker punches like that are miserable.

Still hanging out in Otter Lake while DH works on the never ending painting project. The camp probably hasn't been painted in 40 years so there is rotted wood and all kinds of complications. We are at 4 weeks going into the 5th tomorrow. It is all going to be worth it but I fluctuate between panic over the expense and determination to have it done since I have been wanting this for a decade and I deserve it.

I might have to disable FB memories for a while. All the memories of the posts preceding the election are gutting me. I was so sure that what happened couldn't possible happen. It still fills me with horror and despair. I can't even dare to hope that Mueller finishes quickly and throws a bunch of them in jail, or that a large number of them will be tossed out in the 2018 elections. I have to cling to optimism that things will turn, but I can't trust any polls or news or feelings about what will happen.

ETA: I did go in and disable the memories thing in FB. That should help. Between losing Mom last year this month and the election I just need to be proactive.

All the memories of the posts preceding the election are gutting me. I was so sure that what happened couldn't possible happen. It still fills me with horror and despair.

I'm right there with you. There are still moments, almost 1 year later, when I, no lie, genuinely cannot believe that Clinton is not our POTUS. And the FB memories are picking up steam, only now I read them and I think, "You damn naive fool."

There's a picture from last summer that I was using as my FB profile picture for a while. It's a selfie of Tim and me from vacation in July of 2016. I love that picture because we look so happy. But it also really, REALLY hurts to look at that picture, because I feel like all hell broke loose right after that vacation. (Not just the election, but a lot of terrifying stuff with Tim's RA diagnosis and the possibility of him having lung disease, etc. [Which he DOES NOT have, thank god.]) That picture feels like the last time I was happy without some damn horrifying spectre hanging over us.

Which is melodramatic, I 100% recognize. But it's not really untrue, either.

The professional organizer came and worked with me on my living room yesterday. It's now reasonably clean, and it's got a couple of systems set up for dealing with the mail and having places to put things. Going to work on my bedroom next time, I think, which is somehow a lot more nerve-wracking.

I can't figure out why using a laundry service feels more like "giving up" or being lazy in a way that, say, having a cleaning service come once a month doesn't. Probably because my parents had a housecleaner come once a week when I was a kid, but we always did our own laundry. But I did start using a laundry service, and it's so convenient, and so much easier on my joints, and not as expensive as I'd thought it would be, so that's all good stuff.

Hypnosis school has been an experience. I've learned a lot and I'm looking forward to it being over next weekend so I can grab my paper and get to practicing. I have a natural facility for it and am excited to help people in this way.

And, Ugh. People suck.

The worst part was knowing that my beloved friend would be inundated with incompetents while I was away...and her daughter was not able to stay the whole time.

Sure enough, when I was finally able to get to her tonight, she was in appalling shape. Had probably had nothing to drink for 3 or 4 hours, while two glasses of water and juice sat roughly 2 feet out of her range. She was dangerously flat (she will aspirate if she ever lies fully flat again) and, and, and...wtf, people. You can't clear away crusty dishes after a meal? Christ.

She could barely speak, so I got some food down her and plenty of juice. Straightened her twisted bed clothes and got her cleaned up. By the time I left, she was at least comfortable.

Honestly, this kind of crap just enrages me. I get that I'm more detail oriented than most but, honestly. What is the matter with people.

I need to make enough money to put a hit out on myself before I ever get to the place where I have to rely on people like that. This woman is an honest to god national treasure...which in no way means her care should be better than anyone else's but, seriously...elder abuse comes in many forms.