It Has Begun

Today, I got a ride from a friend to the county clerk's office, and filed my Petition to Divorce. Later on, Mr. Ex came by and picked up his copy of the petition, as well as the Waiver of Service form (which means that he trusts me to handle the final Divorce Decree and doesn't want to have to go to court for it). Sixty-one days from today, I will be legally divorced.

It's... an odd feeling. I'm sad, remembering all the good times me and Mr. Ex had over the years (and there have been a lot of good times), but at the same time I'm really happy to be finally getting this done and over with. In a few weeks, I'm going to be getting the last of my things from his house, which will make the final paperwork incredibly simple - all of the things at my house are mine, all of the things at his house are his - and then we can go back to just being regular friends again.

In other news, I've been taking iron supplements for a week now, and WOW. I'm sleeping better, waking up easier, and I'm not nearly as tired during the day. Turns out that whole being anemic thing really does take it out of you; it's amazing what you feel up to when your cells are getting enough oxygen.

Holy Fuckbunnies

So, Mr. Ex and I work for the same company, on the same floor, and his new boss is my old boss. Boss-lady asked me, when Mr. Ex and I separated, if I would have a problem still working on the same floor as him, and of course I said no, because I don't.

Most mornings, he comes and says hi by my desk, which is going pretty out of his way, and he tells me about the things going on in his life and asks about the things going on in mine. Some things I tell him, some things I don't, but I thought we were working on the whole being friends thing. I haven't even been rushing on the divorce paperwork, because I've been waiting on him to close out the joint banking account that's got all his money in it - until that's closed, I can't file the papers, and I've been telling him since May to please close that account.

Today he came by and told me that he's resigning from his job. I had no idea he was going to do this, and he didn't talk to me about it beforehand. He doesn't have a new job lined up yet, though he says he has a number of prospects he's looking at. He says it makes him uncomfortable to work around me, and he's been having stress enough that he's puking blood again, and all sorts of other horrible things. His family is going to help support him until he finds a new job, and if he hasn't found one by the time his lease is up next May, he'll be moving back in with them.

I am freaking the fuck out.

Part of me is certain that folks around the office are going to blame me for his going. I never had a problem working with him, I never had a problem seeing him around or even hanging out with him socially.

Now I'm freaking out, I'm asking him to close the joint account TODAY, I'm getting myself off his lease TODAY, I'm filling out all of the paperwork TODAY, because I can't afford to let his decisions (whether I agree with them or not) fuck up my finances. I can't do it. I have two kitties to support, and Heed is not exactly a light eater.

So today, I get the ball rolling on actually divorcing Mr. Ex. I'm more than a little nervous, especially given how much of my stuff is still at his house, but I know I need to do this and I need to do it NOW. Wish me luck.

Bring Out Your WIPs!

So, the moving process has been an interesting one for me. Yes, yes, I know, I should already count as moved because I'm actually living here in the new Casa del PenName and have been for a while, but I am still bringing stuff over from Mr. Ex's house, so bear with me.

I have found so many works in progress, just by moving my stash over. The most recent, which I am working on right now, is a sock knit up in Cherry Tree Hill's overdyed Louet Gems yarn, with a picot hemmed cuff and what was a half-finished twined-knit heel, which I have since completed and turned.

So, yeah, other than those two small points, this is a completely plain, stockinette sock, which I don't think I've done often. No stripes, no holding yarns together, just a stockinette sock with pooling stripes, and an interesting heel that I'm hoping will hold together well. I went up a needle size (1 from 0) for the heel, to keep gauge, and I'm about to pick up the stitches for the gusset. I considered trying to go and dig out the second ball of this from within one of my big boxes o' stash, but eh. I'll work on this one in the traditional manner - get one done, get second sock syndrome, eventually find first sock again and think why didn't I ever finish these?

You know. The usual.

Organizing

I spent most of today organizing things in my new apartment - more specifically, the yarn stash. I took pictures, wound and re-wound balls, and updated my Ravelry stash as I filled the yarn cabinets from the boxes and bags that've been sitting in my bedroom for the past few weeks.

I found a bunch of unfinished projects, but I know I haven't found all of them. I put some aside to finish, and some aside to frog, and all in all I think I have less than a dozen projects left on the needles right now, mostly scarves. I don't know why I keep starting scarves, since they take forever and I never finish them, but I've got at least 6 scarves in my WIP pile, most less than a quarter done.

Irish Miss is no longer missing, which is nice, as it's also the project that's farthest along of all my works in progress. It's about half done, if I stop at 36", but I have enough yarn left that I could probably make it twice as long. I haven't decided yet what I'm going to do with the rest of the yarn for it, either continue and make a very long, very lovely cabled scarf, or use the rest for something lacier, perhaps another Anya or Emma or some totally different new design.

Persian Star Prime is about 37% done, which is pretty awesome. I'm 25 rows into the last chart, so I have 103 rows left (and, of course, the edging) to do, and then I'm done. I worry still about running out of yarn, but there's not much I can do for it at this point. I'm trying to make myself do at least two rows a day, at which rate I'll be done by the time September hits, which would be nice. 6 months isn't a horrible length of time for a shawl this size, from start to finish and writing up all the charts. It's half the time Galveston took, though of course I finished the second half of the knitting on Galveston Prime in the two months before my wedding.

Ah well. It's still the fastest shawl I've knit to date, out of all two of them, and that's not too bad. Once I get a television, I'll have something to occupy my brain while I knit, and that should make things go a lot faster.

Oh, That Maggie

Okay, so Mr. Ex went out of town last night, and isn't going to be back until late Sunday, so I volunteered to take Maggie for the weekend (I do loves my Maggie). So yesterday I drive over to his place, calling in some pizza for dinner to pick up on the way home, and collect her and Heed.

Now, I hadn't intended to take Heed home quite yet, I wanted to give it another week just to be sure that he doesn't get exposed to what Loki had, but I had actually talked to his vet and he's been vaccinated against the virus I was worrying about. Still, to be sure I had wanted to wait.

But I got there, and he was crying for me, and I just couldn't leave him again. I've been Heedless for two months now. So I picked him up, sans carrier, sans litter box, sans any of the kitty-related accouterments you generally need, and took him home.

I put him and Maggie in the house, made sure Maggie's food and water were full (I had bought the same kind of food for Grue that Maggie eats, so that's handy), opened Heed up a can of wet food and put it where Maggie couldn't get to it, and headed out to go get me a litter box with the store credit I got for returning Grue's crate.

So. I get that, easy no problem. Decide that Heed's an older boy now, he needs the special Senior Cat Please Don't Die fancy cat food. Pick up pizza on the way home.

When I get home, I discover that Maggie has NOT touched her food at all, or thankfully, Heed's, but she HAS found the box of treats I was going to send home with Mr. Ex, and she has eaten the ENTIRE BOX. ALL OF THEM. OVER A POUND OF TREATS.

Little shit.

Anyway, so I get the litter box set up in my room, realize that I forgot to get the baby gate from Mr. Ex's house, so I put up some flattened cardboard boxes hoping it'll deter her at least a little. Seems to work okay, so I go to bed.

So in the middle of the night, I wake up to VERY loud thumpy music. I'm on the second floor, and it sounds like it's coming from downstairs. For some reason it feels like 5 a.m., so I figure hell, I'll just get up, go walk the dog, get ready for work.

It is in fact 2:30 in the morning. Oh HELL no.

So I go downstairs, and the music is coming from a car. Dude is packing up some things, I don't know if he's coming or going but I don't much care. I go downstairs and politely explain that I'm on some medication that makes it really hard for me to get to sleep, and would he mind not having his music up so loud between midnight and 7 in the morning? He apologizes profusely, and turns it down. I try to go back to sleep.

Then this morning, of course I overslept, but I walked Maggie before work, got Heed shut up in the bedroom so Maggie doesn't get into the litter box, and since I am late, drive instead of walk so I can get there on time. Everything is great.

Now let me tell you about lunchtime.

I walked back to the house during lunch, forgetting that I had the car, and not only would it be faster to drive it home, but I could leave it there and save money on the parking garage. I forget this entirely, until I am halfway there and it would no longer be faster to drive.

So I get home. I let Heed out of the bedroom since he's been cooped up all day, and I take Maggie out for a walk. It takes her a while, but she pees, so we head back upstairs, and discover that Heed's had a hairball on the kitchen floor.

I'm cleaning up the mess, when Maggie runs into the bedroom and eats the rest of Heed's wet food. Mind you, she's had her dry food available all day.

So I get her out of the bedroom, put Heed back up, wash my hands, and grab some cold pizza to eat on the way back to work. As I'm about to head out the door, I find another hairball.

So I put down the pizza, go clean up the hairball, and call and tell work that I'm probably going to be late getting back in. When I put down the phone, I see that Maggie has eaten my pizza. And I'm still late.

So I check the house for any other surprises, find none, and leave. It's usually a 20-30 minute walk for me, depending on how hot it is and how much energy I have, and I already know I'm going to be late and have to stay longer at work because of it, so I don't stress. I made it back, only 5 minutes late. All in all, pretty good time.

UPDATE: When I got home, Maggie was THRILLED to see me. You know that thing that dogs do when they're guilty about knocking over the entire trash can and eating most of its contents? Yeah, she doesn't do that. She just wants to give you kisses.

Weekend, and New Socks

It is the weekend, hooray!

This has been a hell of a week, but I feel now like I'm finally settling down into my new life, and that's good. A friend of mine is coming up with her son (my godson!) for his fourth birthday party, and we're going to hang out all day and have fun.

The day I took Grue back to her foster mom, I came home after hours and hours in the car and needed to unwind. I picked up Persian Star Prime, but I just wasn't feeling lace right then - too much brain work. So I grabbed the square DPNs I got last time I was in Austin, and some sock yarn, of course, that I got to test out the new needles (Cascade Heritage Paints, in the Feathers colorway) and started making a toe. I haven't done socks in... months. Since the Bayerische socks, which remain half-finished in a box in my bedroom, waiting for me to rip the heels out yet again so I can reknit them in the right size. That was around christmas, wasn't it?

So I started on these socks. And I'm doing a garter stitch short row toe, because that's my usual fallback, and for some reason the garter ridges reminded me of this stitch pattern I'd seen on the bus one day, I'm thinking on someone's scarf? I wrote it down in my Idea Book (I love my idea book) thinking to make a hat of it, but you know, that would make a pretty sweet sock pattern too. So I did the math, and hey, what do you know, my usual 80-stitch sock just so happens to fit the pattern perfectly!

So I've been working on those, and I'll probably post the pattern up when I finish them. A simple, textured sock, for some near-mindless comfort knitting.

Overwhelmed

Well, I know my last blog post seemed very rosy, but I have decided that Grue is not the dog for me. I know, I know, it hasn't been very long since I got her. I know this.

When I said she was not socialized as well as I had expected, I was only beginning to see her personality. She is afraid of men, of bikes, of people with beards, of blondes, and of loud noises and fast movements. She is not laid back like I thought she would be - in fact, she's quite active, more active than I can handle. She isn't housebroken, she isn't actually used to being inside at all - I spoke with her foster mom some more, and as it turns out she is used to being kept outside in a kennel all day, every day.

People, I am many things, but incredibly active is not one of them. I do not have a yard at the new place - hell, it's a one bedroom apartment, and I work 8 hours a day. I do not have the energy that this dog will need, to be trained properly and become a good indoor dog.

Grue loves being outside. LOVES it. Wants to spend all day out there - and coincidentally, doesn't want to pee just because she happens to be outside. I'm not going to have enough time in my morning to get myself ready for work AND spend over an hour walking her, and hoping that at some point she pees.

Another thing, and this is hard for me to say, but I am just not as ready to have a dog again as I thought I was. When I caught her chewing on my spinning wheel, I called her Maggie without thinking, and cried for an hour. I cried most of yesterday, actually, but at least some of that is because of the prozac (which, by the way, I saw the doctor today and she decided to double my dose and see if that fixes the side effects I've been having; I have a follow up appointment next month), and I know now that getting a dog was me looking for love more than me being in a good place to take in another animal.

It's still not easy being in my brain, knowing that some of the things I'm thinking are the product of weird chemistry and not really me. I've been having more suicidal thoughts, but (don't fret!) not the kind that are in any way serious. I know this doesn't make much sense if you haven't experienced it, but these are the kinds of suicidal thoughts where once I realize what I'm thinking, my first reaction is That's not normal, I should mark that down on my calendar and talk to the doctor, not Hmm, gas or rope? like it was before I started the brain drugs.

So, tomorrow I drive out to return Grue to the rescue wherefrom I got her. She will be happy to see her foster mom again, and she will be with her sister and brother again, and she will get to be outside all day like she wants to be. Hopefully, someone with a yard and lots of time and energy will see her, and love her like she deserves, and give her a home that will be better for her. She is not a bad dog. She is a very sweet dog. But she is not the dog for me.

Home Sweet Home

Well, I got the keys to my new apartment on Friday. The Library Overlord helped me move over my bed, and a bunch of my kitchen equipment, and then later on my mom came into town and bought me groceries. Oh, so many, many groceries. Mostly it's stuff that's either dry, canned, or frozen, since I know there's only so much fresh stuff I'm going to eat right away, but it's been interesting. I made pancakes and bacon at 11 p.m., and last night dinner was a glass of lactose-free milk (did you know they make lactose-free milk? It's awesome, I can drink all I want without horrible gut pain), a banana, and one of those personal-sized microwaved chocolate cakes, which as it turns out are actually pretty good. Tonight I plan to make some sausage and lima bean dill rice. I make a mean lima bean dill rice, if I do say so myself.

The first night alone was not an easy one. I couldn't sleep, the light from the window and the computer screen was different than I was used to and I was thinking way too much. In the end I called some folks to talk, and that helped, and the next couple of nights were easier because of pancakes and moving exhaustion.

A friend of mine is moving soon, to a fully furnished grad student apartment in California, and so she called me up and asked if I wanted any of her stuff. Basically, anything that hadn't already been claimed and that I could haul away myself was fair game, so I got two futons (hooray seating!), a bookshelf, a microwave, a small cabinet/table thing, a bunch of sheets and towels and a whole lot of dishes. One of the futons I was able to put together myself last night, the other I hope to get done when I get home this afternoon.

Internet won't be working at my house until tomorrow, but by tomorrow evening it should be up and running. Mr. Sweetie (what should I call him now? Mr. Ex? Mr. Friend?) offered to come and help me put it together, which is nice of him. I should offer him dinner.

The Fine Art of Pet Juggling

Well, if you read HasturTorres's blog, you may know already what's been going on these past couple of days. Hastur and the Library Overlord got a cat on Saturday, after lots of time and money spent trying to find one that would work with the Overlord's allergies. The cat, Loki, was the sweetest thing ever, but he had trouble breathing, so Hastur took him to the vet to be checked out, and testing revealed that the little guy was very ill, and the vet recommended the cat be put down.

Because of the nature of his illnesses (and I think I'm going to let Hastur decide how much of what information to release to the public, so please excuse my vagueness), Hastur and the Overlord agreed that it was the only option. They had to weigh the health of their adorable dachshund, whom they've had for years, against one very sweet, very sick kitty, who was not going to get better, and who could make other cats, dogs, and people very sick. It was a hard decision to make, but this morning I drove with her and we said goodbye to Loki.

I spoke with the vet about my own current situation, how I'm living with them now and was exposed to the cat, how I'd like to bring Heed and Grue to my new home, and what she thought the best plan of action would be. As it turns out, the illness that is able to pass to dogs is the easiest to remove from the environment, once the host is gone. Boiling water on the things he pooped on or near, steam clean the carpets and upholstery, wash all the clothes and bedding in hot water, and it's gone. As long as all that's done (and it's getting done tonight, the bedroom is already the Clean Room and the dachshund is safely locked away in there), I could pick up Grue tomorrow.

The unfortunate part is that the respiratory issue with Loki was airborn, and she said I can't Heed home for another 4 weeks. Mr. Sweetie did come and visit Loki briefly, so I've asked him to please watch Heed for signs of respiratory issues (beyond his usual sneezing) and let me know if he sees anything.

I had really wanted to move Heed in to my new home first, and let him get settled in before I brought in a new animal. But I can't live completely alone, I'm just not built for it. I need to hear breathing at night that isn't mine, know there's another warm body in the house whether it walks on two legs or four. So I am going to try and get Grue right away, and when it's finally safe bring Heed over.

Two more days. Two more days until I have a home again.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Well, folks, this is going to be a bit of a long post today, but it should usher in an era of shorter and more frequent posts, for reasons that will soon become evident. I know I've been largely MIA for about a month now, and the reason for that is...

Mr. Sweetie and I are separating.

First, the barrage of answers to the usual first barrage of questions: The details of what happened are between me and Mr. Sweetie, it's not anybody else's business. Yes, I am holding up okay. We are trying to remain friends. I have found a new place to live, and I move in next Friday. I have been sleeping on a friend's couch for almost a month now. Yes, I am still taking the prozac, and I plan to keep doing so for at least the next year (doctor just approved my longer prescription).

Heed of course is going to come with me to my new place - but Maggie will be staying with Mr. Sweetie. She is first and foremost his dog. She needs a stable environment with a loving daddy and a grassy yard to play in, and he needs his little piglet. Since I will have lots of time on my hands, and no longer want to live in a dog-free home, I will be getting one of my own - a one-year-old corgi/basset hound mix that I shall name Grue. I hope that she will be spunky enough to run Heed around, but laid back enough to chill on the couch with me while I play Warcraft. Since nobody expects the spanish inquisition major life changes, money is a little tight with me right now, so I've asked the dog rescue to please hold Grue for me until mid-June, when I'll have saved up enough for another pet deposit and her adoption fees.

Logistically, almost everything has already been worked out. I signed the lease for my new place last week, the security deposit has already been paid, and there is enough in Mr. Sweetie's account to cover my half of the rent on the old place for the remainder of the lease. Mr. Sweetie has agreed to hold my things until I can move them out, and has even offered to help me move the larger furniture, which is very considerate. I'll be within walking distance to work, which will be handy, because that way I'll be able to go home and walk Grue during my lunch hour.

I've been knitting a LOT lately. Like, have-to-make-myself-stop, tingly-sore-arms amounts of knitting. I've knit up to about 30% of the Persian Star Shawl, and written out the pattern for the entire thing. It's going to be a bit before it's PDF-ready, of course, since my actually-mine computer is still with Mr. Sweetie, and it may take some time before I can get internet at the new Casa del PenName. I can still post plenty from campus, though, so no worries there. I plan to put it up for sale via Ravelry once it's completely ready, and then start on probably another large lace shawl pattern.

I'm going to have a lot of time on my hands.

It's going to be weird living alone, I'm not going to kid myself about that. I've never lived entirely by myself, but in the end I think it will be a learning experience. I plan to cook more, which will of course require the number to poison control courage and creativity, but I think I can do it. I expect to be blogging a lot more, and playing a lot more Warcraft, and of course posting tons and tons of pictures of Heed and the new dog. Unfortunately, I can't have any alcohol now because of the prozac, so I won't be drowning my sorrows in anything stronger than a case of Dr. Pepper, no matter how much I might want to. I picked up Crazy Aunt Purl's book, "Drunk, Divorced & Covered in Cat Hair", and let me tell you, she is one awesome lady.

So, yeah. That's me as of right now. Take care of yourselves, everyone. I'll be taking care of me.

End of Hiatus

Well, isn't it like me to announce my hiatus at the tail end of it? I am back. This are different in my life than they were a month ago, but all in all I think I'm on the upswing.

I started taking anti-depressant medication earlier this month, and I am feeling better now than I have in years. Seriously, just this one small thing has made a world of difference in me. I haven't had a depressive episode in over a week. I feel like I'm all here, and connected in a way that I can't really describe well. Before the meds, I felt like I "lived" in my eyes, and the rest of my body was a tool that I used to get around and do things. It wasn't even a tool that I really cared for much of the time. I knew the drugs were working when I looked at my hands one morning and thought me instead of mine. I wish I had done this a decade ago.

I've lost almost 10 lbs in the last few weeks, at first all in a rush, then I gained some back, then lost some again, but I think what I've lost now is healthy loss and not just being to crazy and stressed to eat. Hastur and the Library Overlord have been good friends to me, as shoulders to cry on and so much more, I know I can never repay their generosity but I'm determined to try.

This past weekend I went and saw Chilerox and 2MinutesToBelgium down in San Marcos, and Balthazar the spinning wheel (and my hand cards) found a new home. He is a lovely wheel, but my Babe and I have a history together that no other wheel can match. We went by Hill Country Weavers on Sunday, and I found some Habu cobweb-weight merino in a lovely rich hazelnut color, and some size 0 addi lace needles, which I've chosen to take as a sign. After Persian Star Prime is done, I may doodle around with some Orenburg lace.

In Persian Star Shawl news, as of today I'm four rows away from finishing Chart E, after which there is one more giant monster chart, and the edging. Don't let that optimistic sentence fool you, though, chugging through Chart E means I'm about 20% done with the entire shawl as a whole. If I finish it this week (and I should, but I also have a friendship bracelet to make for a swap, which has to come first) I will dry-block it and take a million pictures. It doesn't look anything like what I first imagined, but I do like how it is now. Funny how life can surprise you like that.

Hiatus

I'm going on hiatus for a while.