the Dalaverse

Well. I have to get back to routine sometime.

First I want to thank all of you for the hugs and the comfort. I can't quite bring myself to reply individually, even now, but it was read and appreciated and...thank you.

Early Saturday morning, we took Hershey back to the vet. That is pretty much all I have to say about that. Later I bought myself a stuffed cow. It's a ritual I started after Snake. I went to Tysons the next day and bought a stuffed lion which I named Johnny Cash, just to something to love and pet and hold onto. It's kind of a displacement/substitute thing, and however inadequate it may be, does actually make me feel a little better. I named the cow Carrie Fisher, which is not meant to disparage the real Carrie Fisher, but only because I think she's neat. Then I went to work, because my parents made me. It was good to get out of the house but I wasn't much in a mood to pretend I gave a fuck about any customer asking for help.

Sunday Dad had tickets to the Nationals game, so Grace O'Malley and I went. I actually ended up paying attention to the game and discovering I like baseball. We were playing the Toronto Blue Jays, so there were mounties and two national anthems. The Nats lost, but they had won twelve in a row, so it wasn't too upsetting. Then, of course, my mother was angry with me for daring to have a good time.

Yesterday I went to work. Meg was there, which was good. Today I'm off and planning to go to gym as soon as I finish this. I've been eating a lot of crappy food lately (I went to McDonald's three times on Saturday) and I think I have gained back some of the fifteen pounds I've lost this summer.

Everything is very strange and disconnected. Half of my mind thinks that none of this is really happening, that I'm doing the thing where you imagine what you would do if something really terrible were to happen. Or maybe I'm the only one who does that. Overall I am depressed, in a low-grade way. I've been sleeping too much. There are sudden fits of crying. Waking up and going to bed are the worst times because there is no longer any good nights/good mornings. Dad is already talking about getting a new dog, which upset Mom something fierce. I can somewhat understand where he's coming from, because it's weird to suddenly live in a dogless house. But at the same time...no.

That's pretty much it.