Tuesday, September 22, 2015

3-2-1...blast off for Asheville.

So, my detaching from my job is proceeding fairly gracefully. There has been some talk from co-workers of duct taping me to my chair until I agree to stay, but of course that would be a felony. Management is in various stages of denial through acceptance, with tinges of "I never liked her," (one person) and "I'm not sure what's happening as it will affect ME," (the rest of the exec team). My boss is droll and stoic. I would love to work for him under other conditions. We have a shared communication style of dry humor and snark. But seriously, I FEEL the brain cells dying.

I'll miss most of the people very much, they are fun and crazy and we laugh, sometimes with a hysterical gasping noise suspiciously like a breakdown, sharing our experience. But I won't miss the work that triggers the borderline hysteria. I'm looking forward to a job that is basically "working technical real estate puzzles," because that is my favorite part of what I do now, it's satisfying to do research and serve up answers. The this bone's connected to the that bone, and the access is off that bone over there, and you can do this and not that.

Meanwhile, I have been calculating when I might next be free to visit the mountain branch of the fam, and realized that next week is my best option until...unknown. Delaney misses her "favorite cousin" Supergirl, and fantasizes about playing in her room. So it's not totally financially responsible or the most cautious path to take, and it will involve taking money out of savings to cover it, but it's time to start working the fuckit list. My daughter and Delaney and I are going to visit her brother in Asheville next week. It will be a whirlwind drive up, two days there, drive back visit, but it will be packed with fun. Delaney has never seen mountains and has never seen a real waterfall. I've requested a waterfall field trip. Willa is now a fully interactive baby person who laughs and babbles, and Delaney will probably demand a little sister of her own all the way home. Willa will meet a new aunt and a new cousin and the grandma she can't possibly remember from when she was two weeks old, and we will have a brief and infrequent family time, and it will be fabulous.

How is Murphy? He's rallied again. He's eating and more energetic, and it's hard to see him as "dying." And that's today, and tomorrow may be another story. This popped up on my Facebook feed today. Yes, Prednisone will give him an energy and appetite boost, but it's not really a quality of life boost. He's still eating barely enough to keep a sparrow alive, even if he does it it with great enthusiasm (Yay, Prednisone). But he's very much in his own world. He doesn't come to me for affection or attention. He does stubbornly go to the vacant spot on the couch where I sit most often when he wants a cookie. I want to honor that, give him all the time he wants to just show up for a cookie, but I need to know at what cost. I know this dog. I know his stubborn, and his fearlessness, and I want to honor every minute of that, as long as I am not pushing him to endure stupid pain. I'm concerned about his mouth. The right side of his jaw is apparently useless, and he's trying to ignore it, because he is fierce. His tongue hangs out that side, he drools endlessly, he can't chew on the right at all now, and I'm not sure what's going on with the left. His remaining teeth were pretty much inoperable years ago.

I just don't know if I'm doing him any favors. I am going to take him to the vet this weekend and get a physical evaluation of his pain level.

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