IRKS AND QUIRKS

September 18/20

There are so many things that are irking me right now. I suppose it can be a good thing. I’m restless, on the move instead of a drowsy potato on the couch. What is irking me, you ask. First of all, lack of REM sleep. The neighbour has installed a very bright and glaring lightbulb outside on her garage. It’s on 24 hours a day. The trouble is at night. The light seeps through our bedroom venetians which are installed between the panes. The reflection is quite bright. Though I can get to sleep, I can’t stay asleep. I wake frequently through the night. Last night we had to cover the windows with a light blanket and towel. They are still tacked up. Who wants to do that every night? Now I have to turn the light on in the bedroom during the day.

The thing to do would be to talk to her. Be proactive. Be direct. Her renter already told us he had no luck. She considers the light is her security system even though he tried to tell her it is a signal there is no one at home. I’ve had no past successes in negotiating with female neighbours. I will have to send the guy over. Maybe he has some charm. Solution number 2 would be to install a curtain rod to hang some dark drapes. But I love my non dust collecting in-between venetians and being able to see the beautiful wood frames. I’m trying not to rush into solving this. So blankets, towels and drapes for now.

I’m unsettled enough today that I’ve already got soup in the Instant Pot by 8:30 am. I’ve got a couple of rooms vacuumed and sorted out some tomatoes. Yes, there’s a bee in my bonnet that I’m trying to soothe.

September 19/20

It is Saturday, Sheba’s day. I’ve had a couple of restless, more energy kind of days. Now I’m just listless and drab. There’s no Sheba around to keep me on track. I have to do it all on my own power. I did go over to talk to the neighbour to talk about her high voltage ‘night light’. Alas/hooray she was not home, gone for the week. I wrote her a nice could-we-solve-this-problem note and taped it to her door. Thank goodness her renter had sense to turn out the light in the meantime. A week of no sleep and being pissed off would do me in.

Now I’m just pecking on my keyboard. It is soothing and calming. It’s like a pacemaker for my brain. I should come here more often. How many times have I said it now? Why don’t I just do it? It’s one of those mystery questions with no answer. I will carry on the best I can. I am not behind. I am not deficient. I am what I am. A little Dr. Seus here. I do so like Green Eggs and Ham even though I am not Sam-I-Am.

September 20/20

It’s Sunday morning coming down. I’m not as morose as Kris Kristofferson. It helps that I didn’t smoke my brain out last night. I didn’t have a beer for breakfast either. I’m trying not to give in to the season of my moods. I’m concentrating on the moment of now. So…I have a pot of yellow roma tomatoes stewing on the stove. They’re smelling super tangy. It’s a waker upper. Just what I need. I am not languishing on the couch with my book of crossword puzzles waiting for things to change.

 

This morning a memory came up on Facebook from a year ago. It was of our visit to Mount Carmel with Sheba last August. Sheba was running down the hill. She looked so vibrant and alive. It brought tears to my eyes. She had walked the Stations of the Cross with Rod.

It is almost lunch. The tomatoes have stewed enough. So have I. I have not languished the morning away. I am not unhappy. Just a little misty and nostalgic. I am paying attention to the moment and what is important. I am problem solving. I am making space. I am making peace.

 

 

LOVING SHEBA

Good morning. How have you been? It’s 3 weeks since I’ve lost my Sheba. It’s such a short and yet long time ago. I’ve had her since she was 2 months old, almost 14 years. But it’s never long enough. She was 3 months short of her 14th birthday. I think of her, missing her presence in all my waking moments. How could I not?

It’s been difficult to come here, my space of refuge, of sighing and letting go. I’m still in the grasping stage. I now know what is meant by grasping at straws. I’m grasping and clutching but there is no physical Sheba. I feel breathless at times. I hear the click of her nails on the floor. I feel her presence –  on her pillow at the foot of the bed, in the kitchen crunching her breakfast and making coffee with the guy in the morning, waiting for me as I come out of the bathroom. I’m ready to step over her but she’s not there. And so it goes.

The acuteness and sorrow of loss will mellow with time. For now I will just let them rise and fall. I will let the tears gather at the corners of my eyes, feel that lump in my throat and the ache in my heart. It is the nature of grieving. I had not been able to or allow myself the luxury of mourning my losses in the past. I had believed in keeping a stiff upper lip and keeping a tight lid on feelings. But Sheba has broke through that dam.

She was everything to me. She was always there and still is for me – my buffer against the blues and other ills. It’s high time I give credit for her work and role in my life. She has given much love and joy and many stories to be told.