![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
2006-01-27
I could KILL George right about now.
I went to bed at around 10 pm last night, feeling out-of-sorts. Some time later, George briefly woke me up to let me know that his brother Reg -- the HIV-positive alcoholic Reg -- has stopped over, so I should be sure to get dressed before heading to the bathroom, which was certainly good advice. I didn't ask why Reg had come to visit, being three-quarters asleep, but instead turned over and immediately dozed off again.
I could also kill myself for waking up with the alarm at 9 am and thinking "hmmmm, I don't have to do anything outside the house today, so I'll treat myself and sleep in a bit".
"A bit" was 6 hours later, which is when I got up to discover that George (or Reg) had left the bowl with all the beef stew in it on the counter, uncovered -- probably since 10 pm.
*beats head on the desk, resists the urge to sob or scream*
My beautiful beef stew. Almost two litres of it. Ruined. I only had one bowl of it. George probably had two. And Reg one.
George, himself three-quarters asleep, said to just put it back in the fridge and we can still eat it today, it just won't be good tomorrow. I buy that about as much as I'd buy the Brooklyn Bridge, but put it in the fridge anyway because I just couldn't bear to toss it all RIGHT away.
Obviously it's time to practice some DBT skills, including Radical Acceptance and Distress Tolerance. More importantly, I have to give myself permission to BE angry, and not beat myself up over feeling this way.
All I can say is, it's a good thing George worked overnight and is still in bed. This gives me some time to cool down a bit.
ETA: ... and to top it all off, Emmie just vomitted after eating soft and hard food. IN her Elizabethan collar. ALL OVER the rug AND my outside shoes.
There is no wall big enough to beat my head against at this point in time.
I went to bed at around 10 pm last night, feeling out-of-sorts. Some time later, George briefly woke me up to let me know that his brother Reg -- the HIV-positive alcoholic Reg -- has stopped over, so I should be sure to get dressed before heading to the bathroom, which was certainly good advice. I didn't ask why Reg had come to visit, being three-quarters asleep, but instead turned over and immediately dozed off again.
I could also kill myself for waking up with the alarm at 9 am and thinking "hmmmm, I don't have to do anything outside the house today, so I'll treat myself and sleep in a bit".
"A bit" was 6 hours later, which is when I got up to discover that George (or Reg) had left the bowl with all the beef stew in it on the counter, uncovered -- probably since 10 pm.
*beats head on the desk, resists the urge to sob or scream*
My beautiful beef stew. Almost two litres of it. Ruined. I only had one bowl of it. George probably had two. And Reg one.
George, himself three-quarters asleep, said to just put it back in the fridge and we can still eat it today, it just won't be good tomorrow. I buy that about as much as I'd buy the Brooklyn Bridge, but put it in the fridge anyway because I just couldn't bear to toss it all RIGHT away.
Obviously it's time to practice some DBT skills, including Radical Acceptance and Distress Tolerance. More importantly, I have to give myself permission to BE angry, and not beat myself up over feeling this way.
All I can say is, it's a good thing George worked overnight and is still in bed. This gives me some time to cool down a bit.
ETA: ... and to top it all off, Emmie just vomitted after eating soft and hard food. IN her Elizabethan collar. ALL OVER the rug AND my outside shoes.
There is no wall big enough to beat my head against at this point in time.
Had a talk with George, who got up around 5 pm. Turns out the stew was on the counter from 10 AM to 3 pm, not 10 pm to 3 pm. I'm still pretty sure I'm not willing to eat it, but George is going to have a go of it. :-/
Emmie came up to sit with us while we were reading the paper on the couch, and I took the opportunity to take off the Elizabethan collar for about 15 minutes. Such grooming and scratching as you never did see! Poor little girl... I was sorry to have to put the collar back on her again, but we can't trust her not to lick/bite at the staples in her butt.
Time to do step exercise, then do flats on those European graphic novel samples.
Emmie came up to sit with us while we were reading the paper on the couch, and I took the opportunity to take off the Elizabethan collar for about 15 minutes. Such grooming and scratching as you never did see! Poor little girl... I was sorry to have to put the collar back on her again, but we can't trust her not to lick/bite at the staples in her butt.
Time to do step exercise, then do flats on those European graphic novel samples.