“Remoted” – Day 195

The day began with a headache, just like most of the past week. The tinnitus has also been extra shrill and steadfast. I don’t know to what degree one affects the other, but they are becoming more frequent. Or maybe my world is sufficiently free of other distractions that it’s the same level as always and just more noticeable.

There was a miracle this morning, but I’m not sure of the proper channels to alert for verification or the required evidence. After barking me awake at 5:30 to go outside, we returned to bed and Moose let us sleep until 7:45. Correct – 7:45. Maybe he sensed the headache thing. Or the Sunday thing. 

For about as many days as the double feature plague of headache and super-screechy tinnitus have been front and center, Moose has been rejecting his food. Maybe he just doesn’t like it, because he still eats everything else including the wet food meatball surrounding his morning medicine, rice, squash, and doggy biscuits. Both dogs are masters of delivering the penetrating stare whenever I’m eating something or even thinking about eating something, as if by boring holes into my brain with their eyes an accidental steak will descend from the heavens and land at their feet. (Maybe THAT is the cause of the headaches?) Ha ha boys. The only steak here is the so-called “steak” in your canned dog food, and your best shot at food from above is carrot chunks and broccoli stems.

The stretch of cranial distress caused me to not participate in a dance meetup this morning and it hurt my heart a little to not see my belly dance sisters. It felt too hard to commit to in the midst of days of feeling tired and wanting to rip my own head off. The self-decapitation won’t happen, of course. The safety valve against that specific consideration and all other rash and potentially dangerous decisions is one question. “Who would take care of the dogs?” Plus, I’m not an animal. I’m not going to leave a mess like that for someone to have to clean up. 

Why nothing gets done,
Sunday edition.

Much of the morning was spent on the couch with coffee and my cell phone. Moose was snuggled against my leg and sleeping, while I read news and the usual tsunami of emails. Cripes, you answer one political survey on social media and the penalty is a steady stream of campaign emails from no less than seven affiliated organizations (and counting). About every two hours an email comes in from one of the many groups, and even with reading one every now and then, there are 735 unread political emails since July, many with all caps screaming subject lines. I wish I was kidding. I almost unsubscribed and deleted, but decided to get all scientific and move them to a separate folder to see just how many there would be by the time the election happens.

While Moose and I owned the couch, Winston was shunning us and laying on the floor. It was a lovely way to spend a morning. And an afternoon. And an evening. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.