Rough day

I'm off for the rest of the year and won't be back to work until January. I have a lot to do before I drive to Chicagoland on Sunday with Eric. Besides the proverbial "packing," I also have to complete product reviews for Amazon (I don't want to take all the items with me on this trip!) and clean up the dining area. It looks far too much like an abandoned, filthy warehouse with cardboard boxes and packing material. Writing reviews is now more for me than just relaxing at night with an Advanced Reader's Copy (ARC) of the latest history or science book.

The day was at first a typical day for me, as I sat in my office reading an ARC from Amazon. I normally read my books at night (when I normally have some peace, since Kevin goes to bed early every night and Eric is at work). I often try out several products and then sit down and write several reviews at once, to maintain momentum. Yesterday I tried out WipeNew, a headlight restorer chemical, a few small electronics, and continued reading "Red Notice" by Bill Browder, about his harrowing experience as an investment banker under Putin's new Russia. Pache sauntered into my office, flopped on my lap for attention, while hissing at the scent of Miss Kitty in my office. He let me pet him but hissed and swiped at me in the process. What's up with his aggression (other than not liking other cats?) When I got up close to his face, his extended paw swiped me over my upper lip. I now sport two small wounds there. Lovely. And this from my own cat.

I spent yesterday afternoon cleaning out my van and setting it up with a new, more sturdy cot so that Eric and I can take turns laying down and resting while the other person is driving. I wanted this done before the forecasted storm came and got things colder and wetter. Naturally I found stuff in the back of the van that was placed there before my road trip to Oregon in June...Being neat and tidy is definitely not my forte. My father's spirit is taking over.

But is Eric in the mood to be with his friends and family? He seemed so out of it yesterday, coming home from work around 10pm and searching through the kitchen (I'm assuming to look for something to eat). He was, as usual, laconic in his responses. He doesn't like it when I ask if we can talk, and instead goes into his room. "Do you still want to drive home for Christmas?" I asked, was answered with a "Meh."

Last night, however, he drove off, which he's done a few times when he's been feeling blue, only to come back late at night or early in the morning. Sometimes he just goes for long walks at night with just the clothes he's been wearing all day. I do not know where he goes, but whenever he takes off like that, I worry. He does not come home drunk or disorderly, though. He's been depressed like this since coming back from his summer vacation in Indiana last August. I know he needs professional help.

Eric mentioned a week ago that he felt Kevin resented him being here with us. I hope that is not true. I enjoy having him here as he's an extra set of eyes and ears for the animals. He gets along great with Minnie and is gentle to all the animals. He helps out when we ask him to and is reliable. I don't want him to feel unwanted, as that only feeds on his depression.

It was also around the same time that Miss Kitty, my little feral, had escaped from my office. She had been in the office since my two foster kittens went to PetSmart and were adopted out last Thursday. She seemed unhappy in my office (I would be too; what a cluttered mess!) but lately she had been scratching at the lower door as if to escape. She must have run out when I didn't close the office door all the way, and shortly thereafter I heard Kevin yell something incoherent from where I was in my office. Miss Kitty had gotten into our bedroom and had gotten Sweetie to attack her, which caused Miss Kitty to hide under Kevin's nightstand.

"Connie, see this!" he yelled at me. I was afraid to see carnage. I couldn't see her when I looked at the area he was pointing at, and Kevin was not patient at all with me. He usually isn't after drinking his daily amount of beer. Miss Kitty was instead hiding behind his DVD pile on the lower shelf of his nightstand and looking scared, but otherwise fine. She did not growl at me. I had to have all the dogs and Kevin outside to lure Miss Kitty back into a carrier and back into her XL crate where she was with my foster kittens last week. There were no wounds on her, but her neck was wet from Sweetie's saliva. This, I know, was a close call. I gave her a new kitty bed, fresh food and water, and she slept well for the night in her crate. For the first time in days, she did not meow. This morning she's still rather quiet. When my other two foster kittens were with me, she'd join them in unison and meow for their canned kitten food. Instead, she got up to sniff her Fancy Feast Kitten, but didn't devour it as usual. This is not the kitten I know!

She did, however, show an interest in part of a dead pack rat I found on the back porch later this morning, a small rat that was killed and torn to bits by one of the dogs. Where are these pack rats coming from? The old, moldy garage next door, where a few years ago we had a bad mouse infestation?

Will Miss Kitty ever warm up to people? I've had her now since September and she's calmed down some. Did yesterday's experience with Sweetie, however, traumatize her? She doesn't mind being petted, but she doesn't like being picked up. Ferals often need months to calm down toward humans, if they ever do. But keeping her in a 48" long crate seems inhumane in the long run. Yet I can't just set her free outside, not in this cold weather with no time to re-adapt to the weather.

Yesterday's experience with Pache, Eric, Miss Kitty and even Kevin seemed all so surreal. Even I am not in the mood to drive 1900 miles (one-way!) to Chicagoland to see Erin and Carol and her family. I haven't had the Christmas Spirit hit me yet. That long, cold drive alone always offsets me. At least I have company with Eric, but if he won't talk to me, how much better will his presence be for the both of us? The older I get, the more I dread this time of year. My daughter Erin is eight months pregnant with Owen, who is due around my birthday next month. I have so many things I've gotten for her, Nick and Ethan that I must go!