annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Still going. Jan 1st Well, I'm struggling now, sat in front of the empty screen, wondering if I can be arsed, but I want to keep writing so here I am, blethering on, waving at Rosemary (*waves*) and hoping something will come of it. I've not had a bad day, though I did text Sister-in-law hours ago, on Whatsapp, so I could see that she'd read it, but she hasn't answered. I called her first but she didn't pick up. It is a struggle not to get very miserable about this, but I'm doing my best. In the past, every time I've thought someone was walking away, it's been something else, so I'm trying to hold onto that. But it is hard. Me and M, the M we had Christmas with, who also has this rotten cold, attempted to go for a walk as it was quite warm, with no wind. We chose to go along the seafront where it's flat as we're poorly and tired, and where we could get a drink when we were done. So off we go, sweet as you like, till the dog does a shit. Or half a shit. The other half gets stuck in the hair around her arse. Holding a poo bag over my hand, I try to pull it off, but she wriggles away and I get dog shit all over my hand, then all over my water bottle. We go back to the cafe we passed, which has toilets outside, and I went in to see if I could clean her up. But instead of a sink, they have a weird machine with a small hole you stick your hands in, which squirts soap, then water, then hot air - miles too small to get a dog's arse in. I washed my hands and the bottle and tried cleaning her in the sea - not easy as she's scared of it, then a bigger wave came in and soaked me up to my knees. Still, the trainers are waterproof so they held in all the water that had come over the top, and worked like a wetsuit - wet but warm. But, she still had a big lump of shit tangled up in the hair by her arse. I remembered there's a tap at the top of the beach, a way back in the other direction, so we walked to there. There was only a pathetic trickle of water coming out of the tap - I did my best, and in the end managed to extract all the lump, though she was far from clean, but then had to go back to the toilets to wash my hands. By then we were both so fucked off - we'd walked 1.7 miles already, but only the first 100 yards had been any kind of pleasure. So M found a big plastic carrier bag, we shoved Shirley's lower half in it, to stop her smearing shit all over M's car, and drove back to mine and left her in the garden. She loves being in the garden and we wanted to walk before it got dark. Which we did, round the lake down the road, to the Costa in the garage where we drank coffee and sat and moaned for quite a while, back right round the lake, 3.7 miles in all. Home to bed. Except I had to wash the dog, which she resisted every step of the way - I knew she would so I did it with a bowl and a jug outside on the garden table, but by the time it was done I'd gone past my snooze moment and here I am, heading for an early night. Honestly though. In good news, daughter had her first sober new year with her 12 step gang - she'll have done a year of clean on the 11th - which she said was the best new year she's ever had. They danced like mad into the early hours and it was all totally safe as no one was pissed. Sounds good, doesn't it? I tell you, the support she gets from 'the rooms' makes me almost wish I was addicted to something so I could get clean and have a tribe like that behind me. I am grateful for: a friend like M; an open fire; getting my miles walked (I've changed from 6000 steps a day, back to 1000 miles in a year, which needs an average of 2.73 miles a day); nice comments xxx; a good chat with Daughter Stay cool, peeps. We've got this.
10:58 p.m. - 01.01.20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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