Welcome to my world!

My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...

Sunday, May 8, 2011

The Cat

I thought it was better. I just missed the signs. The bulimia is raging. She's just gotten better about hiding her tracks. I bought a new bottle of Resolve, thinking that would handle the occasional upset tummy. But this really is a sickness. She wakes me up in the middle of the night, crying for fresh food. God forbid if she can see the bottom of her bowl.

She walks around my head and starts licking sensitive areas (like my armpit) with her sandpaper tongue. Or my face. With the same tongue she's just used to lick her butthole. No wonder her breath stinks. I'm gonna get some dread disease, I'm sure. Then she started scratching last night. Fuck. Even though she doesn't go outside, I'm supposed to treat her for fleas. I'm down to the last little vial. It's a major ordeal when it's time for me to squirt the harmless little bit of medicine on the back of her neck. She digs her claws into my thigh. Runs and hides for a day or two. Until The D starts his version of Cat Baby Talk. It makes me ill.

The bulimia's bad enough. She also has pica. Which means she has cravings for non-food items. Like wood. The unglazed porcelain under the toilet tank. My forearm.

Fuck. I have two piles of vomit to clean up and she's lying on my sham licking herself all over like some kinda porn star. I guess they do that. She seems into pleasuring herself, anyway.

I hope I'll wake up in a better mood tomorrow. As always, it's dicey.

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