A Ceramic Fish Joint

I started to write this on Monday but got sidetracked so I’m just now getting around to it.

I knew that moving back to Small Town, WV would pose inconveniences. I just didn’t realize how hard some things would be. There’s the little stuff, like having to shop at Walmart because there are literally no other stores here. Now, I’m big on my Target love – so this is…disappointing. I’ll go off on a little tangent here to talk about the shopping situation – but that’s not the main point of this entry. Anyway, Walmart moved into town at least 15 years ago or so. There were actually two in the area; one is about fifteen miles in a neighboring county of Maryland, the other is about 18 miles in the opposite direction in West Virginia. The one in West Virginia was built as a Super Walmart, and is in a part of my county that actually has a couple supermarkets, restaurants and some specialty stores. It’s also close to the community college and is the county seat. It just happens to be kind of out of the way from where I live – although the distance is comparable, you have to drive either over a mountain pass or around a mountain on a local road. The other Walmart is in a considerably larger town and is a much easier drive. There’s an actual interstate *gasp* that you can take for part of the trip, and a newly constructed parkway that bypasses stoplights and speed traps (there are a few neighborhoods here that make most of their money from speedtraps – one goes from a speed limit of 50mph on a road cut out of the side of a mountain, then at the very edge of the mountain road it switches down to 25mph. Police regularly sit at the side of the mountain where the change is posted, sometimes even hiding in people’s driveways.)

So anyway, there were already two Walmart stores in the area. There was one mall, about a mile away from the existing Walmart in Maryland. The mall is literally on a hill overlooking the old Walmart plaza. Now, considering this is a rural part of the country, the mall here was pretty small to begin with. There were maybe 80 or 90 stores originally (including all the kiosks in the middle of the mall.) Well, a few years ago, Walmart decided to buy out part of the mall to create a new Super Walmart. It took over roughly half of the old mall, leaving a giant Walmart and maybe 50 stores. So now there’s practically nowhere to shop. And, being a fat chick myself – this severely limits my options for actually buying clothes. Although some of the department stores have a plus sized section, they are akin to old lady clothes. Seriously – you can’t find cute stuff at Sears. These are the kinds of things you don’t ever think of as limitations because of where you live.

Another problem is the lack of bookstores. I think it’s pretty well known that I love books. Some of my favorite evenings in Tampa were spent going to Borders or Barnes and Noble, getting a coffee and grabbing piles of books to look through. I’ve probably spent a small fortune on my book collection, and wouldn’t change that for the world. I love books. I often went to the big chains out of convenience, but adore going to independent bookstores. Or, better yet, used bookstores. There used to be a great one here called Paperback Exchange, but it apparently closed down after I moved to Tampa. It had a pretty good system, you took in your old books and got credit towards getting more books. They also carried newer books, but they were mostly ones about spirituality and new age stuff. It was one of those stores where you could pick up a sticker that said “My other car is a broom.”

So, let’s see – bookstores are few and far between in rural WV. I guess you could insert a joke about the illiterate rednecks here somewhere. Shopping is difficult unless you’re okay with buying everything from Walmart. Which, I’m not. One of the biggest problems I have with Walmart is that they severely limit your selection. Sure, you can get cat food, mascara, hemorrhoid cream, toe socks, knitting needles, a vacuum and some cupcakes all in the same place – but you have to buy one of the brands the Walmart wants you to purchase. My dad and I have often commented on this. They must do trial runs with certain items, decide which sell best then discontinue the rest. I have problems with allergies and my sinuses and use a lot of cold products. There are a few things that I’ve bought from Walmart in the past (and that I can buy from other stores) but are no longer carried. Like Theraflu quick melt strips. Or Celestial Seasonings Lemon Honey throat drops. You can buy other Theraflu crap, or other Celestial Seasonings cough drops – just not the ones that actually work for me. I would understand if these items sold poorly and the manufacturer discontinued them – but that’s not the case. They sell well enough for CVS (or whomever) to keep them on the shelves. Anyway, that’s just a tangent of a tangent of a tangent.

The real point of this entry is the problem with healthcare here. Not only are there very few doctors to choose from, but it seems like they make it harder on the patient to get the care they need. I’ve mentioned before that I take some pretty heavy duty painkillers because of the car accident I had this past summer. I also have had a lot of problems with anxiety and whatnot, and have been taking medicine for that also. I’ve always gone to specialists – a pain management clinic and a psychiatrist, along with regularly going to my primary care doctor. Well, most of the medicine I take can only be prescribed one month at a time. Which was never a big deal in Tampa. I just made another appointment each month, paid my co-pay (or paid out of pocket when my insurance ran out.) Each and every doctor knew what meds I was taking, and I did all the things they asked of me. I’ve gone through months and months of physical therapy for my back, gone to a therapist, had tests out the wazoo…all that jazz. I thought that I was doing the things I should be doing to take care of my health.

Apparently, I’m not allowed to do those things here. When I moved, I tried making an appointment with the ONLY pain management clinic in the tri-state area. This was back during the first week of February. They tell me that they require a referral from a physician’s office – not just a written referral, but their office has to call to make the appointment for me. And, even if they did make an appointment, the earliest one available would be in late April. So I call my own doctor here to get an appointment, in hopes that he will prescribe my medication while I wait to get in to the pain management clinic. Well, my doctor flipped the fuck out. He first refused to prescribe ANYTHING for me. It took much convincing for him to finally agree to give me a one month supply. He would only give it if I signed paperwork stating that I would never again ask him for a refill of any controlled substance. One of the main things behind this was because my brother tried to get him and other doctors to prescribe painkillers multiple times in the same month. And then he took my mom’s painkillers. Which at the time led to this doctor asking her to bring her prescription to the office to be counted. Because my mom is crazy, she flipped out and said some off the wall things to this doctor. Basically leading to me having a doctor who doesn’t trust my family (which he shouldn’t trust Jeremy, but the rest of us shouldn’t suffer) and who now refuses to treat me.

So, anyway, we go through all this. He says that he’ll have his office contact a pain management doctor in town. The pain management clinic apparently doesn’t actually prescribe painkillers. Who knew. I went to the doctor on Monday – as of today (Friday) I still do not have an appointment with this other doctor. In just over three weeks I will need a refill on my prescriptions. Since my doctor refuses, and his staff is clearly incompetent, it looks like I am going to have to FLY TO TAMPA to get my prescription refilled. Tell me where this makes sense, please.

This is apparently the same case for my anxiety meds. My doctor here doesn’t agree with what I’ve been prescribed. Even though some of the stuff I take is what HE prescribed me last year. I had actually been taking different sleeping pills last spring. My psychiatrist in Tampa didn’t like what I was taking, felt they would have some bad interactions, so he prescribed more controlled substances. And, you know, one thing that really gets me is that my doctor here asked why I was taking the things I take. As if I had twisted someone’s arm into prescribing them for me. I take them because the specialists I saw felt they were the right medicines for me to take. Forcing me into a situation where I have to stop them suddenly isn’t just unrealistic – it’s unsafe.

Anyway, even after I managed to get a prescription for everything – I had a huge problem actually getting the painkillers filled. I went to SEVEN separate pharmacies looking for this one prescription before a kind pharmacy tech offered to call around to other places looking for it. That’s ridiculous!

You know, I wouldn’t take any of this if I didn’t actually need it. Without Ambien, I do not sleep. Which then makes me get migraines. And once I have a migraine, I have to do something to sleep it off. Prior to taking prescription sleeping pills, I was taking up to a handful of Unisom a night. Of course back in the beginning two or three pills was plenty to help me fall asleep and stay asleep most of the night. After a couple of months, I started only being able to sleep two or three hours before waking up. Knowing that the main ingredient is just Benedryl, which is safe in much higher doses than the amount in Unisom, I started taking more to get myself to sleep. Then more. And more. And more. Five years later, I would go through a few bottles of OTC sleeping pills a week. There were times that I would take what I thought was enough for the night, it being the rest of the bottle. Then, around 2 or 3 am I would wake up and have to drive to the closest CVS or Walgreens to buy more sleeping pills, just so I would be okay enough to work the next morning. Each weekend I would sleep the “healthy, natural” way – without any pills. Just so I could kind of reset myself in hopes that the next week I could start with a smaller dose. It was a horrible, vicious cycle of overdoing the sleeping pills during the work week then doing the zombie shuffle through the weekend on little to no sleep.

This story is pretty much the same thing for all of my other scary, scary prescriptions. Just replace lack of sleep with panic attacks, paralyzing fears, overwhelming inability to face difficult situations and pain so severe it’s difficult to get out of bed to walk to the bathroom (especially now that I have to climb a flight of stairs to get to the nearest restroom.) I still have to use a cane to walk sometimes. I supplement all these prescriptions with homeopathic remedies, exercises at home (now that I’m not going to my chiropractor daily and doing physical therapy there) and basically doing what I can to help myself heal. I have an unfortunate combination of injuries and illnesses right now, and it’s upsetting that the person who should be helping me is actually just hindering my care. I think that it’s ridiculous that my care should be compromised by things that my brother did. And, this isn’t just in my head – the doctor actually brought up his actions last year during my appointment. This is taking the small town “everyone knows everyone’s business” to the extreme.

But to think that I may have to actually travel over 1000 miles to a doctor who is willing to continue the treatments I’ve had for the past 9 months, well…that just boggles my mind. If I weren’t unemployed, it wouldn’t be possible to take a few days out of the month to fly down – see a doctor – then fly back. But, since I am unemployed, the few hundred dollars I’ll have to waste to do it are going to really hurt. That’s a car payment for me. Or an insurance copay (I now have to pay the entire out of pocket cost for continued coverage for insurance, equaling nearly $400 a month.)

I guess this is just so upsetting to me because I feel like I am doing all the things that I should be doing. I’m not out buying pills on the street (like I used to) – I go to a doctor. I get the MRIs, the nerve conduction studies, I get the alternative treatments like steroid injections in my back. I’ve had accupuncture, massage therapy, chiropractic adjustments, physical therapy. I do every single thing I’ve been asked to do. But I’m treated like an addict in the end. Aside from one jerktastic doctor when I was hospitalized, I was never treated like this in Tampa. It’s almost like being followed in a store because the workers assume you’re only there to steal stuff.

I don’t like being treated this way; I don’t like the way it makes me feel. And the truly sad thing is that there are very, very few doctors that I could switch to here. And, if I would, it would take many months to get an appointment. This just further instills my desire to move back to a city. Rural life is not for me. It’s more than just a lack of Starbucks here, I honestly think that my health is being compromised by the hoops I’m forced to jump through.

I just tweeted this, and I’m sure I’ve mentioned it somewhere before…but if you didn’t already know – I used to be a pageant kid. I started at age 3 and continued until age 9ish. I was going to write this last week after I watched TLC’s “Toddlers and Tiaras” but wanted to include pictures. And, I just don’t know where any are at right now.

I didn’t just do pageants, I modeled, danced (ballet and tap, though I think I did one year of modern dance), did gymnastics and baton (twirling.) Loved it. I was actually really good at it, too. I have a shelf full of trophies and pendents in my old bedroom. I remember that there was this one little girl who was always my rival – we would always place first and second when we competed.

I didn’t do competitions all the time, but a few times a year I guess. Back then, they had the kids who were all made up – make-up caked on, huge hair, tans, etc. My parents didn’t allow that. When I got older, I wore blush occasionally. I had really long hair until I was about 6 (and cut it off, to my mom’s horror) and would compete with long curls. I don’t remember who my dressmaker was, but they were a special pageant-type dress with tiny bells hidden in the layers of fluff under the skirt. I remember how much they rocked!

I did different types of competitions – sometimes it would just be a dance routine, or a twirling routine (which was my specialty, I guess. I was really good at it.) And sometimes I would do a modeling routine. When I was very young, like 3 – 5, my dad would actually go to my classes with me to learn my routine. There’s one particular “scoot” that we all still joke about. My dad, having to come home and show my mom what I’m supposed to do, bending his knees – with his hands above them and then doing a little scoot backwards a couple times. So funny. (I won a competition with that move, btw.)

Often, my mom would get so stressed out by the competition that she refused to watch me perform. There was one incident where I freaked her out backstage. She asked if I remembered what to do, and I assured her that I would just go out, throw both batons up in the air and catch them! It was something I did when I was a little older, not at age 5 (though was learning it.) In reality, I was supposed to do a little march along the stage twirling the batons. Anyway, mom flipped out and had to get my dad to take over. She went outside to smoke, and didn’t come back in until I had my huge trophy. Of course, I did what I was supposed to instead of the throwing and catching of batons. Hah!

It’s weird. While I’m generally pretty horrified when watching these pageant shows, I have to admit that I loved doing it. My family wasn’t an extreme pageant family – we didn’t travel more than 100 miles to a competition, didn’t do too many a year, etc. I did have training a few times a week, and went to dance camps and such during the summer. Though, as I was getting older I spent more time playing baseball half the year than I did focusing on competitions. Plus, as I got older, I admit I was a bit of a sore loser. I can remember one of my last events – I flipped out because I didn’t get a trophy, only a few small pendants. Not very becoming at all. I think my parents decided to cut down/out my future events. It’s a bit embarrassing.

It’s weird, I’m trying to remember as much as I can from my pageant days and am having a hard time. I can’t actually remember being on stage, looking at the judges. I can see back to the classes I took, getting ready backstage, and even waiting and watching other girls perform. In any case, I have good memories of my pageant/performing days.

In April, there’s going to be an auction for a bunch of Michael Jackson’s stuff. I may have been all in love with him when I was four, but damn…the dude is creepy. I mean, Michael Jackson painted as Peter Pan? *shudder*

I just had a fleeting though. Very fleeting. But, you know, it was there for a second or two.

I wanted. *sigh* I wanted a baby. Sweet Jeebus. Excuse me while I have a heart attack. Maybe it’s the whole not having a period in a bajillion months (ok, since I got sick in October. It came briefly while I was hospitalized, and never appeared again. I’m not pregnant. There have been three pregnancy tests taken since December. And a huge lack of sex and all. I heard sperm was a necessary ingredient of making a baby, right?) Maybe it’s loneliness (though, I have a lovely cat to keep me company – and family to hate me if I walk upstairs…) Maybe it’s a late-quarter-life crisis. Who knows. Point is, what the fuck?

Wait, maybe it’s from reading blogs and message boards where everyone is pregnant or just birthed a child or whatever. Hell, maybe it’s that crazy Nadya Suleman who has a hundred kids through IVF – paid for with disability and student loans. I could totally get a student loan! And, while I’m not disabled, I am unemployed and getting (a very meagre) bi-weekly check for that. Who needs health insurance and car insurance and…a car. I could have a BABY!

Oh wait, I just remembered that my brother’s crazy long-distance girlfriend is having a baby in a couple of months. Certainly can’t steal their thunder.

Seriously, what the hell? Can you even see me with a kid? I mean, okay. Maybe I am great with kids and they love me and blah, blah fertilecakes. The flip side is that I’m incredibly selfish and want my time and resources to be my own. And, more importantly, I don’t want the responsibility of a squiggly human life. Remembering to feed the cat is hard enough.

I guess it is kind of weird because I’m at the age where most of my peers are married and have children. Looking on facebook, there are so many people who have already spawned offspring. A few are stay at home parents now, which kind of surprises me. I can’t imagine devoting my life to the care and nurturing of someone else – and stopping there. Sure, I’m unemployed right now. But, since I came of working age, I’ve had a job most of the time. Sometimes a career, even. I don’t think I could give that up willingly.

I guess I just never thought of myself as the mothering time. I don’t particularly like taking care of people. And the idea of having something GROWING inside me freaks me the fuck out. So, fleeting moments aside, I doubt I’ll ever fully get on board the idea of having a kid. Or kids. Because some people are crazy enough to do it over and over again.

It’s really HOT here today. Well, compared to how it has been (and the forecast for the upcoming week…) It’s in the mid 60s right now. I guess yesterday it got up to almost 50, but this is a real shock. Especially since I noticed that this weekend we are expecting snow. So, it’ll be my first snow in about a year. Luckily it isn’t going to snow much, but I think it’s predicted for Sat, Sun and Mon. Too bad my new boots won’t be here in time! (I ordered two pairs of boots right before I moved; one pair arrived last week – but they are a smidge small and I need new laces for them. The other pair was apparently delivered on Monday, but I have no clue where they were delivered. So a replacement is being shipped out. They’re on backorder again, though, so I won’t get them till close to the end of the month. Poo. By then I doubt I’ll have much need for warm winter boots.

It’s funny, when I was in Tampa, 64 degree weather would have me complaining that it was cold. Now, it really does feel like a heat wave. I am so not accustomed to cold weather still. Most likely, March will be more of the ups and downs. A lot of times there is a big snow in late February, then early March the temp spikes up super high causing it all to melt at once. Which leads to flooding.

I think I’m going to try to get out of the house today. I haven’t actually left since we got home Saturday night. At first I was too exhausted, then I was feeling really bad with a cold. Just wasn’t sleeping well because it was hard to breathe and stuff. I’m not 100%, for sure…but not feeling quite as bad. Still can’t breathe though! I’ve always had sinus problems, ever since I was young. At a pretty early age I started using nose sprays to help, but they cause rebound nasal congestion. So, for almost 20 years I’ve dealt with getting hooked on OTC nose sprays like Affrin and stuff, then spending months trying to get off of it before allergies or a sinus infection or even a stupid cold has me reaching for it again. And when I do start using it, I know…I KNOW that it’s only going to cause problems, but it’s very hard to suffer with not being able to breathe when something will easily fix it. Unfortunately, after all this time, those medicines don’t work that well on me anymore. I literally keep a bottle at my side and use it every 10 – 15 minutes when I’m sick. And I rotate between formulas to try to make it not as used to what I take. Anyway, it’s a pain in the ass. Once my insurance kicks in again, I need to go to the doctor and get steroids for my nose and sinuses. They help ween me off of the bad OTC stuff and help prevent the allergies, etc from causing a problem. Of course, even with the steroids I come across times when I need the OTC medicine, but it’s not as big of a problem then.

I’ve uploaded most of the pictures I took during the move to Flickr. Check it out if you’re curious. Be warned, there’s a lot of pictures of giant fake animals. And Ziggy, but he’s real.

Enjoy!

I got to WV around 7pm last night. Dad cleaned up the room downstairs for me (as best he could, anyway) and brought the majority of my stuff down. There’s still a lot to be done, but I have a bed to sleep in, have my tv hooked up for something to watch, and wifi for the intertubes.

Ziggy is doing well. I let him out of his carrier last night and held him while we were upstairs, thinking I could at least show him the dog. Well, that was a bad idea. The dog jumped up on me (he’s a HUGE beagle – probably weighing close to 70lbs now, he nearly knocked me over!) Well, this huge dog coming at him freaked Ziggy out, so he tried to get away and clawed the hell out of me. I put him back in his carrier and took him downstairs. He hid for a while under dressers and such. Every now an d then he’d peek out but was still terrified. If I was able to grab him, I tried holding him to make him feel more secure. It was one of the few times he didn’t purr while being held.

At some point, the other cat snuck downstairs. She’s kind of a bully, but it seems like she was afraid of him, too. They howled at one another, and at one point she hissed at Ziggy. She is a hard cat to catch, she’s not exactly a people-cat. After a couple hours, Jeremy caught her and took her upstairs where she’s stayed ever since. Well, except for when I accidentally left her outside. Ooops. I’m not used to animals trying to sneak out – Ziggy is perfectly comfortable sitting at an open door just looking at the scenery. If you try to carry him outside, he freaks out wanting back in. He’s totally an indoor cat.

After being left alone for a while, Ziggy warmed up a bit. He even let dad pick him up briefly. He also slept out in the open – on top of a chair for most of the night. He’s used the litterbox, eaten some food and even played with his toys a little. Now he’s resting comfortably on the bed with me, curled up by my feet.

He was an exceptional kitty this past week. Although I lost him at some point in every single hotel (crawled into the boxspring at the first place, squeezed behind a platform bed in the second and somehow hid under a blanket in the first.) He would freak for the first hour or so in his carrier, scratching to get out, flipping it over and over and crying horribly. I gave him Rescue Remedy every morning, not sure if it helped any though. If it did, it was pretty delayed. But, after his initial fits in the carrier/car he would calm down and just lay quietly for the duration of the drive. Apart from Saturday, we really only stayed in the car for 6 – 7 hours a day (driving about 5 hours) then stopping at a hotel. Mom couldn’t handle riding for any longer. And to be honest, I was exhausted from packing and cleaning over the weekend, then starting the trip late Monday. So pushing myself to drive more than a few hours a day was kind of out of the question. I didn’t have any real help, the entire time Mom helped with the driving for maybe 30 minutes or so. I asked her on two different days to take over driving for a bit because I was tired, and after maybe 20 miles there was always an excuse to stop – for food or to use the bathroom. And then I took over again. But, truthfully, I wasn’t that comfortable with her driving anyway. She claimed she started getting sleepy as soon as she sat behind the wheel, which didn’t help the fact that she has a hard time staying on the road to begin with. So, I couldn’t rest well with her swerving back and forth between lanes. I was terrified she would hit someone or run off the road. Not restful at all.

But, it’s over now. No more driving for a while. Ziggy and I can rest in our new home. And I have to say I’m really happy to see the dog again. I missed him a lot; he’s such a sweetheart.

Admitting the following may show just how…I don’t know…pathetic(?) I am. Maybe not pathetic. I dunno, it just makes me feel a little dirty.

Anyway, I sometimes shop on QVC/HSN. I am not proud. But, prices are not bad and paying in installments makes large purchases easier. Like getting a new tv. I had a good job still, and had the money for it…but it was a lot easier to make a couple $200 payments instead of one $800 payment. Plus, as opposed to layaway, you get to play with your new toy right now instead of later!

Anyway, so I got an email from QVC that everything on air will be offered to buy on a 4 payment plan. Even cheaper stuff, which is usually not the case. This solves a problem of sorts for me. I need boots for WV. Because of a prior broken foot and a prior broken ankle, my shoe needs are kind of special. I don’t mean that I have to buy the most expensive thing ever, because I often wear flip flops from Target. And only the ones I get on clearance, because paying 10 bucks for flip flops is ridiculous. But, yeah. This will make it a lot easier to buy a pair of boots for home. February often is the second coldest month, and usually has the most snow. I am not a fan of either cold or snow. Cold makes me shiver and turn red. And snow makes me more clumsy. I fall down go ouch. Boots can keep my feets warm AND dry AND secure on snow and ice. Hurray for boots!

I actually went to DSW Saturday to look for boots. I found a pair I loved, but they were 80 bucks. And I am so not spending that much for boots. Well, I guess I’m more likely to if it’s broken up into payments. And, I’ve certainly bought enough pairs of Birkinstocks (sandals AND clogs) at $100+ each. Investing in something like a pair of boots is probably a pretty reasonable thing to do. I’m kind of sad about DSW, though. From buying shoes there and being in their little club, I had three coupons for $10 off a purchase. They can be used together and there’s no minimum purchase. But…I don’t know where they are right now. Boo.

So anyway, QVC for the win. I’ve now turned into my mom for the win FAIL. (Except for how she doesn’t actually have a bank account, and dad never keeps money in his. So she uses MY bank account to buy from QVC and dad reimburses me. Except everything is bought on a payment plan thing and sometimes they forget that it’s six payments instead of four. And so there are random 20, 30, 50 dollar debits on my account. She never just buys one thing, either. Mind you, this hasn’t happened in like 2 years. But I’m still bitter.)

Well, I plan on sleeping a bit more…but technically it’s 4am and today is the day I leave. So, Day 0. Dad had to leave today. He got a call from the rental company that the minivan he had rented was reserved by someone else on Tuesday. Timing has just been a little off with everything we’re doing though. Like, with Salvation Army. It would have been ideal if they could have come Monday. Meaning we wouldn’t have had to buy extra air mattresses. There was already one for dad, though he replaced it when he got here last week because his old one was losing air so quickly. Like, after a couple of hour he’d be on the floor literally. All because my dear sweet Ziggy likes to jump on the bed with his claws out. Fun times!

So Saturday we bought two more, one for me and one for Mom. An extra 30 bucks to sleep since I had no way of getting rid of my furniture after Saturday. And it turns out that my air mattress is faulty. Ziggy has been too freaked out to play, so I can’t blame it on him. But mine loses enough air that I’m on the floor in about 3 hours. How lame. But it’s the last night for me to sleep on one here. I may need to once I’m in WV for a day or two. The couch is incredibly uncomfortable, and it will probably be a couple of days before either my old waterbed is set up downstairs or my grandma’s old bed is brought in for me.

There’s still a surprising amount of stuff to do. Mom really is kind of useless with this crap. Instead of packing/tossing stuff, she’s been cleaning. Dad and I are busting our asses to get everything packed up to put in the van so he could leave today. And she’s either washing clothes or has herself in the bathroom scrubbing the toilet, the tub, the floor…whatever. And she just doesn’t comprehend that space is not only finite, but quite limited. The stuff that she saved just blows my mind. Ice cube trays. She saved ice cube trays. Because “we don’t have new ones at home.”

Meanwhile, it took until 6pm before Dad could leave. That’s damn late. And I still have quite a bit of stuff to take to the dumpster, and stuff to pack in my car. Then, if I can handle it, I need to clean the floors. It may be something left undone, simply because I’m exhausted. I fell asleep at 8 tonight. Like a senior citizen. Lovely. I woke up for a little while when Dad called me from Georgia, but not for long. Since Friday, I’ve passed out hard every night. I’m going back to sleep in a few minutes because I have every intention of sleeping in today.

My goals for today, after I wake up, include the following:

• Fill car with rest of my keepables. Mostly linens, clothes for traveling, laptop and cat.
• Take remaining stuff to dumpster. This step is difficult because the dumpster is full. It always fills on weekends, and I’ve not really helped this.
• Vacuum. Clean tile floors. Clean out sink and countertops in kitchen. Wash front door; dad spilled a can of soda on it yesterday.
• Arrange my stuff to go, keeping necessary personal items near.
• Shower. I feel icky.
• Call landlord to have his lady come over and go over everything. Hand over keys.
• Leave home, head for beach for one last look. Probably I’ll just stop at one of the little inlets off of the Gandy bridge since it’s so close to me.
• Drop of equipment at Brighthouse so I’m not charged for cable modem and DVR.
• Go to Walmart, pick up prescriptions, new travel litterpan and litter, can of food and maybe some pretzels. And combos. They are my travel food. Well, usually what I eat in airports. But this is travel, too. Just slower.
• Drive for forever. Goal is to get to South of the Border before stopping for the night.

Oh! So after Dad left, I sat down to chill out right? And I’m not sure what prompted me to remember this…but something did. Fairly quickly. I had packed my damn iPod in a box of “computer stuffs” which was meant to stay with me. At the last minute I threw it onto a tote that he took, forgetting that I had placed the iPod in there to get it out of the way. Without furniture I don’t have much horizontal space to keep stuff and I didn’t want it stepped on or anything. So, when I called he had just turned onto Dale Mabry – about 5 – 7 minutes away. He turned around to let me fish out my PicklePod. I’m just happy it didn’t travel in a box without me.

Ok, I’m tired and Ziggy is demanding some cuddle time so my time is up. Toodles.