30.10.06

Dream A Little Dream, But Make Sure You Change The Shit Box.

I feel:: hungry

On Friday last, I was supposed to have a meeting with my Spanish professor, but I woke from a dream of my grandfather. He wasn't doing anything to me, but I kept seeing him walking around in various forms of undress. It unnerved me. It is an understatement to say that I "woke up on the wrong side of the bed". I couldn't get the images out of my mind and I wanted to call my mom to ask her how Daddyboy dressed normally because I only remember him being dressed in a robe and his leather house slippers. I thought, though, that if I did talk to her about him at that time I mostly likely would wind up having another panic attack. I can't even describe how much I hate those. So, I tried to push it away like I did the last time I had a dream about my grandfather. Needless to say, that tactic is not very successful.

The first thing I do in the morning after I wake up and after y'know the morning pee, is make coffee. That morning after I made coffee and fed my cats I had to change out their litter box. This is something that I intensely dislike to do, but I love my cats. (You know, I bet even Martha doesn't dig around in cat boxes. Is she even a real person? Who has time to make all that bullshit anyway?) Anyway, I have one of those automatic kitty boxes that scoops itself. Y'all have seen those, right? You have to buy these plastic bins and covers for them because that's where the icky goes. Then, when it's full, you change the plastic bins instead of having to dig around in the shit, piss and litter. Still, it's not a perfect system. In my perfect system, the cats would be potty-trained. It's still messy and stinky, although less messy and stinky than it was before. I still hate doing it.

Moving on...

I was changing the bin and attempting to put the cover in the slots where it goes in the lid (there's two holes and the cover has two little thingys you have to punch through the holes in the lid). It's supposed to stay on, but lately the damn things have been falling out of the holes. On this particular morning, I had to go through 3 lids and they still kept falling out. Already in a pissy mood, this just pushed me over into frustrated-and-slamming-things territory. Then, of course, my dad yelled at me because I was slamming things around. I almost said something really snarky to him, but I kept my mouth shut.

I couldn't get the dream out of my head and I couldn't really do anything except sit in my bigcomfychair with my hands over my face (I had washed them. I'm kinda gross, but not that gross.). So, I had to call my professor and reschedule my appointment with him. I could tell he wasn't happy. I didn't know what else to do. I mean, it's not like I could call him and say, "Hey I just had this crazy dream about my grandfather who molested me for 10 years. Can we postpone our meeting 'till Monday?" People really don't like to hear that kind of thing, even if they say they want to. Also, it's not something you just blab about, you know? (I realize I'm contradicting myself, because I am "blabbing" about it on here, but....I really don't know what I'm trying to say, so I'll just stop.)

I keep trying to remember things about my grandfather, but I just get little slivers of glimpses. My close friends tell me that I'll remember when I'm emotionally ready to remember. My psychiatrist says the same or that I may never remember. I hate having that huge hole in my life.

Thus ends my story of how I changed the kitty box.

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