Sleeping late felt like the right thing to do this morning, but Jack-Jack, Queen Bit, and Fred Fredburger were having none of it. No matter how many times I brushed them off, they kept coming back and insisting that I get up. Jack was especially vicious with the head butts. I got up, fed the cats, took out three bags of trash because it will run today, and started a load of laundry while the coffee was brewing. Then, we took the dogs outside and fed them before sitting down to create this morning’s picture.
That really isn’t that much work, requires practically no effort, and ends with the pleasure of coffee hitting my lips. Everything should be fine, right? No, the cancer and the chemo are kicking my ass. I feel as though someone sucker-punched me right in the gut. Walking or sitting upright is challenging. The bed is right next to me and only three creatures are on it at this point. I could sneak back to bed and almost no one would know.
What adult gets to do that, though? There are too many things to do. I’ve let the room get cluttered to the point that it’s bothering me. That has to be addressed today and, knowing how my body degrades as the day gets longer, I know it has to be done this morning. I may fuss at the kids about the living room and kitchen, but the Recovery Room is totally on me. Well, me and the dogs but they’re really only good help if I need them to hold down something or eat crumbs.
Of course, all my going back and forth woke Kat. I’m sure she’s less than pleased. I’m hoping she has a gentle day so that she can get up to Brandon’s early and enjoy a peaceful weekend.
There was an odd moment with the mail yesterday afternoon. I went out with the dogs to see if the mail had come. I was hoping, which I should learn to never do, that my new debit card would come so that I could take care of things like cat food and laundry detergent and litter. You can likely imagine my disappointment to find the mailbox empty. I looked over and there was the mail truck sitting where it normally does after they finish delivering on our street. I took that to mean that we weren’t getting any mail.
But then came the ice cream truck. You know, the kind that plays the silly little music and dishes dairy-based delights from the back of a colorful van without anyone questioning whether it’s safe. They’ve been a ubiquitous summer staple since before any of us were kids. As the ice cream truck draws near, the mail carrier waves him down, walks over and gets an ice cream cone. I’m thinking, “Awww, that’s convenient. He gets ice cream at the end of his route on an impossibly hot day. Good for him.”
Then, as the ice cream truck starts to leave, there comes another mail truck. That mail carrier also wants an ice cream cone. Not that I can blame them after walking around in the heat all day. He gets his ice cream and leaves.
An hour later, I look down the street and… there’s our mail truck sitting where it does when they’re delivering mail on our street. I go back outside and check. Sure enough, there’s our mail. Still no debit card, of course, but at least the mail was there. That means the two previous mail trucks were not delivering mail in our neighborhood at all. They were only here for the ice cream, and our poor mail carrier, who sludges through the heat for 11 hours a day, completely missed out.
Speaking of heat, I’m wondering how it’s still possible that anyone thinks that their pet is going to be okay in a hot car? Even lizards have their limit and I’ve not seen anyone driving around a lizard. There were police reports yesterday of a dog found dead in its owner’s car, and two other people were arrested for endangering their dogs by leaving them in the car. Every summer this issue is a dominant one on all forms of media, yet it keeps happening. I don’t get it. Our dogs are rather aggressive at times about letting me know, “Hey, we want to go back inside now.” We don’t mess around with long walks or extensive time outside when the heat is this bad. We make more frequent short trips for their bathroom needs. Their bodies don’t process heat like ours do. If you’re one of those people who think that your dog can handle it, you’re just mean and I’d rather not know you.
There will be another post dropping about 10:00 this morning. It’s nothing heavy. I just thought it would be interesting to compare how I processed a set of images 14 years ago compared to how I processed the same pictures yesterday. You can look forward to that.
Meanwhile, I need to check my glucose, eat something, take my meds, and get on with this business of decluttering the room. Something tells me the dogs aren’t going to be especially cooperative.
Oh, I still haven’t heard a thing from Canon, Nikon, or Sony and the crew at Adobe is starting to really piss me off. But then, are we really surprised? They’re all big companies. They don’t have the guts to contact me, or anyone else, directly.