Sorry for the long radio silence.
I’ve been waiting for something to happen that ISN’T depressing.
We’re all upset about Newtown, although a part of me asks why, in a world where 30,000 children die from hunger and disease every day, this particular twenty hits us all so hard.
Maybe it’s just the unforgiving truth that we assume that we are safe.
Our children are fed, clothed, and vaccinated. Our plastics are BPA free. We use car seats and booster seats, we monitor their play around the clock. We assume our children are safe, and when that belief is shattered, we take it very hard.
In any case, I feel like Newtown started this cascade of bad events. Everyone on my Facebook feed seems depressed. Bad things are happening.
My work has had a run of tragic losses – I rushed a long time patient into the back when his owner presented him for a routine procedure and I took one look at him and realized he was dying, which he did anyway despite oxygen and CPR.
Then I had to drive up a snow covered mountain to recover a dead puppy from a Vancouverite who was too scared of driving in snow to bring him in when he was hit by a car. I won’t talk about it any further, not because I don’t want to talk about it – in fact, I do, in vituperative and graphic detail, to anyone who will listen (much like the Ancient Mariner), but it’s far too depressing a story for me to inflict on you. Suffice to say that the blood stains on my passenger seat still bum me out when I get into the car.
A realtor came to look our place over and give us a valuation (just in case) and politely told me that our house is a dump and would go for about $20,000 less than similar units selling in our complex. Because it’s a dump.
You mean this isn’t desirable?
I’m beginning to sympathize with Aunt Josephine from A Series Of Unfortunate Events.
We went across the border to get some mail, and got pulled aside at the border over a misunderstanding, which resulted not only in a long wait with a child who was past his nap time, but us having to pay tax on duty free liquor (yup).
Owl got sick the day before my work’s Christmas party, which resulted in our friends not wanting to babysit him lest he get their baby sick. My awesome neighbour did dig up a potential babysitter for us, but we just didn’t have babysitter money in our Christmas budget so we brought him to the fancy dinner. He was a hit, but PH had to go home early with him, thus missing out on the theatre show – even though my boss had already paid for the ticket.
PH isn’t having a great time either. He just found out that a former coworker who he finally escaped from when he changed locations last year is going to be his coworker again – someone who used to make his life hell.
I came downstairs this morning to find that PH had rearranged Owl’s alphabet magnets creatively.
That about sums it up
I still haven’t mailed all of my Christmas parcels. Hell, I haven’t even finished my Christmas shopping.
I’m sleepy all the time. I think it’s the long, dark nights and short, dark days.
I took a Wellbutrin this morning.
Focusing on the positive:
Monday’s Canada’s Worst Driver showed gay man love, and that made us happy. You don’t see enough of that on reality television.
Owl seems to be recovering quickly from his cold.
When the realtor walked into Owl’s room, she brightened up and said, “oh, THIS is nice!” in a surprised tone of voice.
And it really is.
My much-coveted cape coat arrived in time for my work’s Christmas party, a gift from my mother.
I’m getting a fancy new video camera with my Christmas bonus money from my dog training business, which I can use to make training videos and possible become rich and famous. Or just use to make more Owl videos.
Best of all, I was voted Employee Of The Year at work! How’s that a turn around from almost a year ago?
(as an amusing side note, I also found this post from around this time last December, so things are definitely looking up)
Being Employee of the Year is not only a huge morale booster, it’s a $1,000 prize which must go towards a trip of some kind. PH had been talking about taking Owl and I to Disneyland, but I was wavering because of the cost. PROBLEM SOLVED.
…Except that an hour after PH booked it, the friends who were supposed to be going with us to share a room with us (cutting costs) and taking Owl off of our hands ended up having to back out – problems with the husband’s work schedule. So that’s a new problem.
The problem with being me is that rather than bask in the “I must be awesome” glow of being Employee of the Year, I am instead plagued with thoughts like this:
“You don’t deserve that, you haven’t worked nearly hard enough.”
“Everyone must be pissed at you for winning, because THEY wanted the $1,000 prize.”
“Now, if you don’t work even harder, people are going to regret voting for you.”
“No one complimented your dress at the work party. They probably thought that you were slovenly and awful and have lost all respect for you.”
“Your dress slipped when you hugged Dr Hank Azaria, exposing your bra. Now everyone thinks you’re a ho.”
And other such cheerful thoughts.
Did I mention I took a Wellbutrin?