annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Not very interesting, even to me, and I wrote it

I want to get back into writing. I think I've been scared of my feelings - not wanting to let them out too much - well, that hasn't changed, but I want to write anyway because not writing is so awful. And it's November - I could be writing a a novel - check out if you fancy banging out a first draft during November - so I should at least be writing something.

Cats. I now have two cats, Mischa, m, and Lily, f, brother and sister, age six, house cats, only left the flat they were born in once, six years ago, to be neutered and micro-chipped. But their owner has to move and can't keep any of her four cats so I said I'd have these two as, you know, mice, stupidity etc. So, they're deeply traumatised at being slung in the back of my car and driven about the place and then a dog - they've never encountered a dog before.

They have the box room to feel safe in, with a stair gate across the door to stop Shirley getting in. I put another one across the bottom of the stairs so she can't sit by their door barking and that urge seems to have passed already, though she is curious. They spent a few days just hidden, having squeezed themselves into tiny places in that room, but gradually they are getting a bit bolder. Lily is now sleeping on the chair rather than under it and Mischa, who had been much more timid, suddenly transferred himself overnight to under the sofa downstairs. He's stayed there all day - fantastic bowel and bladder control - leaving Lily looking a bit anxious, but to be honest, fuck 'em. They're cats and I can't be arsed.

Bloke is faffing about over them, spending quite a bit of time sitting with them (or her today), but I can't, I just can't. I wished I hadn't said I'd take them, and wanted to change my mind, but we do have mice and I couldn't face letting the woman down and really, just inertia carried me along once I'd said I'd take them. I did put Shirley on a short lead when she was home today to stop her scaring him under the sofa and she didn't fight it much. I'm writing all this to remind me in future - either to remind me that it all went OK, or that it didn't.

I'm numb really, emotionally. People on the fringes of my life respond to me as if I'm fragile as fuck, which I guess I should be, could be, might be, but I'm not. I'm shut off. All my energy is going into physical activity. Walking the 6,000 steps minimum every day, plus yoga three times a week and this gym class twice. The doctor prescribed the gym for me, which means I get it very cheap - 24 classes for £36 - and I find I really like it. It's circuits, which get me a bit sweaty and with my heart pounding, but in a safe, managed situation, with a few other fat, unfit bastards, whose Drs have sent them. I'm missing one Buddhist centre yoga class for the gym, as it needs to be twice a week to benefit, and they clash, so I've kept up my membership of the other place to do yin yoga twice. I started this in a committed way on October 13th and I've already walked over sixty miles.

I'm on the laptop in my bedroom - we've turned everything off and gone to bed, and now I can hear the cats moving about. Shirley's in here with me and the door is shut. I'm glad they're not as static as they seem.

12:06 a.m. - 04.11.19


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